Simon Camden Is a Drunk
by Hoedogg
Summary: The pressure of being a Camden leads Simon to depression and alcoholism. R for language and themes.
1. Recap, Simon's POV

Disclaimer:  7th Heaven and its characters are not my property.

Background:  This story builds on the episode where Simon gets drunk at the party, and also on Sophronia's fanfic piece, "The Real Story".  As the chapters progress, this story will resemble the actual show less and less.

***

Simon Camden was grounded again.

This was not surprising, considering he had been caught drinking spiked punch at a senior party.  Actually, caught was not the right word -- more accurately, he had been ratted on.  But that technicality didn't matter, because he would have been found out anyway.  There was no keeping a secret like that from super-snoopers Eric and Annie Camden, no matter how hard he could try.

In fact, for Simon it had seemed an effort to do almost _anything_ anymore without parental interference.  For example, it had been an accomplishment just convincing them to allow him to go to the party.  When he had first asked, his mom had laid down the law and told him, "No."  Surprisingly, his father had overruled her.

Even more surprisingly, his mom had acquiesced and allowed Simon to go.  It wasn't like her to relinquish control that way – especially with the iron-fisted way she had been ruling the entire household recently – and so he had expected to spend another boring Friday night getting his weekend homework done early.

What a pleasant surprise it had been when Morris had finally shown up, promised to look out for Simon, and survived the inevitable barrage of questions, such as:

"What are your intentions?"

Simon's mother had actually asked Morris that.  How embarrassing!  It was clear that his parents were not yet living in the twenty-first century.  Thank goodness Morris had played cool and the two of them had escaped the Camden kitchen together.

Once they had arrived at the party, Simon had subconsciously known he had the option to drink if he wanted to.  After all, they had arrived in Morris's jeep, plus Simon didn't have his license yet.  Combining those two facts, Simon figured that automatically made Morris the designated driver.

Of course, Simon hadn't actually gone to the party with an explicit agenda to drink.  He had assumed there would be alcohol at the party, but he hadn't known it for certain.  Therefore he had only planned to mingle with the in-crowd, and to disprove the notion that he was a goody-goody preacher's son.  But really, what better way to do that than to have a drink or two and loosen up a little, if the opportunity were to present itself?

Still, he had never touched the stuff before, and he had worried about how he would handle it.  Every time his family had talked about it, they had made it sound like it was poison.  That's why he had been nervous, but also excited, when Tom and Mike, the cool kids, had taken him out to the backyard and shown him the "party table".

Simon had known he could not drink from the keg.  There would have been no way to cover himself and pretend he didn't know what he was doing.  The punch, however, had been a different story.

The second the first drop had hit his tongue, he had known it did not taste right.  He had known it, but feigned ignorance.  After all, he was Simon, the preacher's son, from the moral family Camden.  He was a representative of the family that was always holy and good.  How would he know what alcohol tasted like?

Hence he had figured he could play the naïf, and he had been right.  In fact, it had been laughable – but also a little sad – how easy it had been to convince people at the party that he didn't know the punch was spiked.

And so he had kept drinking it, letting himself lose control, becoming the life of the party…until Morris had found him staggering back toward the house with his fly still unzipped from having taken a leak in the bushes.  Thank goodness Tom and Mike had been too drunk to remember how to put film in their cameras.

Morris.  If it had been anyone else who had "rescued" Simon from the party, he would have been angry.  But how could he have been angry with Morris?  The guy had survived an interrogation from Eric and Annie – the Reverend and the PsychoMom – and somehow he had still managed to get Simon to the most bitchin' party of the year.  So there was no way Simon could be mad at Morris for dragging his drunken ass back to the jeep and taking him home halfway through the night.

***

Home.  Simon's memories of this part of the night were a little less clear.  Thinking about it now, he fuzzily remembered vomiting in his brother's car; hiding out in the garage treehouse to cover his drunkenness from his parents; his siblings sneaking him into the house to sober him up; Morris spilling the beans to his parents and blowing his cover; the stern speech his little sister, Ruthie, had given him about being a better role model; and his apology to his parents, taking responsibility for it all.

At the time he had meant it, really.  Never again, he had told them.  Never again will I touch another drop of alcohol.

But in retrospect all the bad elements of that night had just felt like a bad dream, unreal.  And the good elements had felt so liberating.  No longer had he needed to behave like the saintly son of a preacher.  All responsibility had been waived.  The punch buzz had lifted the Camden burden, turning the party into nothing but a good time – an oasis, in a desert of torment.

An oasis, because it wasn't so easy being the preacher's son.  No one wanted to be his friend.  Whenever he tried to make friends, they alienated him because they said he judged them for their every little action.

And of course he couldn't help but be that way, because that was how he had been raised.  He had seen his family send his sister to Buffalo for an entire year, just for drinking half a beer and hanging out with kids who smoked pot.  He had been shamed by his family, just for wearing baggy clothes and hanging out once with kids who listened to rap music.

Increasingly, his father had overreacted to any behavior that fell outside his narrow guidelines.  Ever more frequently, his mother had snapped at anyone who defied her.  Also his brothers and sisters had seemed to be turning into zombies who no longer questioned their parents, and they always seemed to be pressing Simon to conform to standards he wasn't really sure he believed in.  With the family pressure mounting every year to live up to these Camden standards, how could he possibly be normal?

Thinking about it now – and he had plenty of time to think since he was grounded – Simon decided that was the main reason why he had drunk the spiked punch.  He had hoped to lose his inhibitions, and for his peers to see the _real_ Simon Camden, the one who knew his family was full of shit but was too afraid to admit it…when he was sober.

But he could think of another reason for drinking the punch, a reason he didn't even want to admit to himself.  He had been trying to impress Morris.

Simon still couldn't figure out why the guy had been so nice to him that night.  Morris seemed to be the only person in school who was nice to him anymore, and Simon had wanted so badly for Morris to think he was cool.

Drinking the punch hadn't really seemed to do the trick, but it hadn't repelled Morris either.  After all, he had "fulfilled the promise he made to Simon's family" and taken him home.  He really hadn't needed to do it; he could have left Simon to drink himself into a coma at the party.  But he hadn't.  He had even come back to the Camden house later to check up on Simon.  Of course, that had blown Simon's cover with his family, but it also had shown that he cared.

It was a strange feeling for Simon to think that someone outside his family cared about him.


	2. Life Goes On

***

The night after, with his homework already done and his grounding in full effect, Simon lay alone in his bed letting the pleasant, punch-flavored memories of the party drift lazily through his mind.  Finally – rather than his usual sullen teenage thoughts about his depressing home life, and lack of driver's license and friends– he had something blissful to think about.

"Hey, Simon," Lucy walked into his room and interrupted his reverie.

"Hey, Luce," Simon sat up slowly on his bed to face her.

Lucy sat down at the foot of his bed, happy that he didn't seem too moody at the moment.  "So, can you believe Mom and Dad didn't punish the rest of us after we tried to cover up what you did last night?"

Simon thought for a minute then responded, "If they had tried to punish you I would have stood up for you.  You were just trying to protect me."

Lucy scoffed at the idea that Simon would have stood up to their parents.  "Yeah right!  You would not have stood up to them!  You were in enough trouble as it was."  She giggled and added, "I'm surprised you haven't started following the rest of us around, trying to catch us doing something that would make Mom and Dad forget about what you did."

Simon grinned but shook his head back and forth.  "No way, that's not how I work."

Lucy stopped smiling and got a very serious look on her face.  "Simon, I have to confess something."

"What is it, Lucy?"

Lucy dropped her eyes toward her fidgeting hands and slowly admitted, "Last night, I almost ended up drinking too."

"WHAT?"

"I know, it's hard to believe, and it's quite a coincidence," she said, still looking at her hands.  "But it's true."

"No way.  Tell me about it."

Finally she looked up from her hands to Simon.  "There are these two girls in one of my classes, and they seemed like a lot of fun so I wanted to hang out with them.  Well, last night we went to this bar that didn't check ID's."

Simon started to guffaw and loudly said, "No way!  You went to a _bar_ last night?"

"Ssshhh!" Lucy hissed, flapping her hands in panic.  She jumped up from the bed and checked the hall to make sure no one was listening.  Assured that the coast was clear, she sat back down and looked into Simon's eyes.  "Look, Mary's the only one who knows.  In fact, she's the one who kept me from drinking.  But really, this _has_ to stay between us, OK?  I don't want Mom and Dad finding out and thinking I'm irresponsible."

Simon nodded and said, "No problem.  I can keep a secret."  Then he looked at his sister with a new kind of respect.  "So, wow, you actually went to a bar last night.  What was it like?  Was it a lot of fun?"

"Actually, it kind of sucked.  There was cigarette smoke everywhere, and it was really loud, and Jill and Barb kept pressuring me to drink beer."

"Jill and Barb, eh?" Simon said, cocking an eyebrow.

Lucy rolled her eyes.  Simon had a history of jonesing for older women and she didn't want to encourage it, so she said, "Look, they're _really_ not your type, OK?  Besides, after last night, I don't think they'll ever speak to me again."

Simon dropped the subject, but he filed those names in the back of his head.  Jill and Barb.  Maybe they could come in handy later…

***

Monday morning rolled around, and Simon hoped he would get a little more respect and recognition in the high school hallways.  Recognition, he got.  Respect, however, he did not get.  Most people who had been at the party were pointing and laughing at him.  In fact, even some who hadn't been there were laughing.

Oh, God.  Had he been that big of a drunken ass?  No way.  He had been funny.  He had been loose.  He had been Simon – the real Simon.  What were these people laughing at?

While he was thinking about it and getting his books from his locker, Morris came up to him and sarcastically said, "Thanks a lot, Camden."

Simon had no idea what Morris was talking about, so he shrugged and quizzically responded, "You're welcome?"

Morris ignored him and continued, "Thanks to me taking you home early from the party Friday night, people are calling us 'boyfriends' now."

Simon chuckled loudly and said, "So _that's_ why they're laughing."

"It's not funny, bitch," said Morris angrily.

"Oh, I think it is," said Simon.  He half-punched Morris in the arm and said, "Come on, man, lighten up.  Don't take yourself so seriously."

"Simon, in case you hadn't noticed, I have a reputation to protect.  I know that's not anything you would know about and all, but…"

Simon snapped, "Oh wait a minute, that's a load of shit and you know it.  I have the stupid, fucking 'Camden reputation' to protect."

Morris was taken aback for a moment.  It was the first time he had ever heard Simon swear, and it was turning him on.  After Morris had swallowed hard and gotten his hormones back in check, he responded, "Look, I think it would be best if we just didn't associate with each other anymore.  You know, so our reputations don't get damaged anymore?"

Simon glared at him a moment and then said in a pissy voice, "Fine.  I won't hang around you anymore, Mr. God's Gift to Glenoak."

Simon turned back to his locker looking crestfallen, and it tore at Morris inside.  He hated doing this to Simon, but he knew it was the best thing for both of them.

"Good," he said.  "Well, I have to go to physics class now."

"Like I care," said Simon, not turning his head from his locker.

"Later."

"Whatever."

***


	3. Blue Monday

Simon had been having plenty of bad days lately, more bad ones than good ones.  But days like this – the ones where he kind of didn't mind getting out of bed in the morning because at least he had hopes of something to look forward to, only to have those hopes dashed?  Days like this were the worst.

He knew it was pathetic, but he had actually been anxiously anticipating this Monday morning.  He had been so sure he would receive plenty of high-fives and "What's up"s from his classmates for having attended the senior party.  And of course, he had looked forward to seeing Morris again.  What a letdown.

Morris.  Simon didn't pay his level two algebra class any attention at all, because he couldn't get his mind off that exchange in the hallway.  He so badly wanted to hate Morris for the cruel things he had said, but every time Simon reviewed and rewound the exchange in his mind he blamed himself instead.  After all, _he_ was the pathetic dork whose overbearing parents had scared Morris enough to make him feel responsible for Simon at the party.  Thus it was _his_ fault that Morris now felt ostracized by his popular friends.  And so Simon convinced himself he deserved all the pain that Morris had dumped on him.

This was becoming common behavior for Simon.  Lately he had gotten so used to taking the blame for things that weren't really his fault that it had become second nature:

"Mom, Sam spilled his apple juice all over the kitchen floor."

"Simon, I'm disappointed in you.  Why weren't you watching him more closely?"

"I don't know, Mom.  I'm sorry.  I'll go clean it up."

"Mom, Happy just made a mess in the hallway."

"Oh, Simon, why didn't you let her outside?"

"Because, Ruthie was supposed to take her for a walk at four.  She must have forgotten to do it."

"Simon, Ruthie had her Youth for Christ rally this afternoon, remember?  Oh, goodness!  You need to let Happy out if she has to go!  Honestly, Simon, sometimes I can't believe how stupid you can be!"

"I know, Mom, I'm sorry.  I'll go clean it up."

"Simon, what was this girlie magazine doing under your mattress?"

"Uh, Dad, that's not mine.  It's Robbie's.  He asked me to hide it in my room, since you found his secret stash and burned it in the backyard.  Honest, I've never looked at it."

"Simon, it's one thing for you to bring this…this _filth_ into my house – _our_ house.  It's another thing entirely for you to blame someone else for it."

"Dad, I swear it's not mine."

"Oh, it's not?  Fine.  You know what?  Whether it's yours or Robbie's, I don't even care.  The fact that it was in your room is bad enough.  Look, son, I know how teenage boys are, and it's perfectly OK for you to be curious about the opposite sex.  But looking at magazines like this?  That is not OK, it never has been OK, and it never will be OK.  OK?  You're grounded until further notice."

"Yes, sir."

Thinking about that last punishment always made Simon wince.  He had laid down and taken it, because he had figured it was better to let his father think he had been using Robbie's magazine as masturbation fodder than to tell him the truth about himself.  Sometimes Simon wondered if he would ever tell anyone the truth about that part of him.  He had buried it beneath a façade for several years now – for as long as he had known it existed – and he wondered if he would ever be able to dig it up again.  But then again, why would he want to?

***

The school day dragged on and on, with Simon paying attention to nothing but his own depressing thoughts.  He mechanically wrote down his homework assignments in each class, not listening to anything else his teachers said and barely speaking a word to anyone else all day.  He ate lunch quickly, alone.  He avoided eye contact with Morris every time the two passed in the hallways.

***

For a change, it was a relief to get home.  Maybe he would be able to spend at least a few minutes in his room alone with his misery, before anyone else in the house had a chance to add to it.

He crashed on his bed and buried his face in his pillow, wishing he could force tears but knowing it was not within his power to do so.

Without intending to do it, Simon fell asleep and did not awaken for over an hour.

***

"Wake up, you lazy bum," he heard a familiar voice next to him speak, far too loudly.

"What time is it, Ruthie?" Simon grunted, wiping the drool from the corner of his mouth.

"Time for you to take Happy for a walk, Mr. Slobbermouth.  Ew.  Your breath stinks."

"Ruthie, I'm really not feeling so hot right now.  Do you mind taking her for a walk this afternoon?  I'll walk her tonight before bedtime."

Ruthie simultaneously sighed with exasperation, crossed her arms, shook her head, and rolled her eyes.  "Do I have to do _everything_ around here?"  Without waiting for an answer, she power-walked out of the room to grab Happy's leash.

As Ruthie left the room, Simon tried to decide whether he should float back into the conscious world, or just drift back to sleep.  After all, what was worth staying awake for?  Being grounded?  Doing homework?  Talking on the phone with friends…oh wait, he had none.  Hanging out with family…yeah, right.  As much as Simon loved them, he was getting to the point where he couldn't stand to be around them.

Matt was barely around anyway and when he was, he just busied himself being a bossy prude.  Mary had been acting like the dumbest whore on the planet ever since she had returned from Buffalo.  Ruthie had used to be Simon's best friend, but she had gradually morphed into an annoying, self-righteous twit he could no longer stand to be around.  Robbie was usually OK, except when he got into one of those moods where he acted like he was so much cooler and less virginal than Simon.  Lucy was OK sometimes, when she wasn't busy chasing after boys or trying to be ultra-pure in her father's eyes.

Lucy.  Simon recalled what she had told him on Saturday about going to a bar…with girls.  What had she said their names were?  Jill?  Jill and someone…hmm.

A thought occurred to Simon.  It was an insidious thought, and he tried to banish it from his mind the second it arrived.  But it hovered around and pestered him like a hungry mosquito, and he was too tired to swat it away.  Almost unconsciously, he let the thought guide him upstairs with his notebook and a pen handy, up to Lucy's work area.

Her class notebooks were neatly stacked there, and he almost hated to disturb the pile.  But the thought would not go away, and it prompted him to leaf through the pages, quickly, looking for…anything.  A phone number, an address, anything that might belong to Jill or her friend…

Barb…a phone number.  Barb?  Wasn't that Jill's friend's name?  It sounded familiar.  Simon jotted down her phone number in his notebook.  Then he restacked Lucy's notebooks and returned to his room just in time to hear Ruthie coming home from walking Happy.

***

Minutes later, Ruthie entered Simon's room and asked, "Did you go upstairs while I was walking Happy?"

Simon looked up from the homework he had started and incredulously asked, "What?"

"Lucy's notebooks aren't stacked in the order she usually stacks them.  I was wondering if you might have gone upstairs and, oh, I don't know…looked through them?" she suggested accusingly.

This was so creepy.  "Why on earth would I do something like that?"  Simon could feel the blood rushing to his head, and he wasn't sure if it was due to anger, nervousness, or embarrassment.

"I dunno," said Ruthie with a shrug.  "All I know is, Lucy's going to know somebody went through her things if she finds her notebooks out of order."

It was definitely anger.  "First of all, how do you even know what order she keeps her notebooks in?"

"Easy.  She told me she keeps them in order of her class schedule."

"And you actually know her schedule?"

"Yup.  I know it by heart.  She has The Sacred Quest from nine to ten-thirty on Tuesdays and Thursdays…"

Simon cut her off by raising his voice and half-shouting, "I don't care, Ruthie!  And I really don't think you should either.  You realize that you don't have to know every single little detail of everybody's life, don't you?"

"Oh I know that.  But I like to, because it usually works to my advantage."  She beamed a smug, closed-lipped grin from ear to ear.

God help me, I want to smack her, thought Simon.  "Look, I'll make you a deal.  You go upstairs and put Lucy's notebooks in order for her, and I won't kill you."

Ruthie gave him a disappointed look and shook her head back and forth.  "Simon, Simon, Simon.  If that's not an admission of guilt, I don't know what is."

"Just do it!" Simon shouted.

"What is all the yelling about?" Annie Camden asked, appearing at her son's door with some half-folded laundry in her hands.

"Nothing, Mom.  Ruthie's just being annoying as usual."

"Actually, that's not entirely true," Ruthie said, putting on her cutest possible face for Mom.  "The _truth_ is, Simon went through Lucy's notebooks upstairs and I caught him."

"That is not _even_ true!" Simon yelped.

Annie looked aghast at Simon.  "Simon, why would you invade your sister's privacy that way?"

Simon felt a mass of resentment beginning to boil in his stomach.  First of all, how could his mother automatically take his conniving sister's word over his?  Second of all, how could she scold him for doing something she herself would do in a heartbeat?  If she were ever to suspect that she might find something even slightly incriminating in one of Lucy's notebooks, Simon knew she would be up there snooping faster than he could say "Go."

He finally overcame his anger enough to form words.  Through clenched teeth, he growled, "Mom, I did not go through Lucy's notebooks.  I swear it."  He unclenched his teeth to earnestly add, "And I don't understand why you would automatically take Ruthie's word over mine."

A scary, fake serenity washed over Annie's face as she turned to Ruthie.  "Ruthie?  Is there any reason why you would lie to me about something like this?"

"Nope," Ruthie shook her head back and forth with conviction.

"I didn't think so."  The serenity left and the shark eyes returned as she faced Simon and began to waggle her index finger.  "Now you listen to me, Simon Camden, you are on thin ice as it is.  Do not push me or so help me, I will see to it that your father extends your punishment."  Annie haughtily tossed her hair and dramatically walked out of the room.

"Humph," Ruthie repeated her mother's melodramatic exit.

"Jesus Christ," Simon muttered to himself as he lowered his head onto his desk.

***

That night after Simon got back from walking Happy, Lucy came to see him in his room.  Somehow she seemed to know what a hard day he had had, because she spoke very delicately.  "Simon, Mom just told me Ruthie caught you going through my school notebooks this afternoon.  Is this true?"

Simon looked at the floor and shrugged.  He was past the point of caring whether or not people thought he was guilty anymore.

"What does that shrug mean?  Because it can't mean 'I don't know.'  Either you did it or you didn't.  Which is it?"

Simon lifted his gaze from the floor to her eyes and lied, "Lucy, I didn't do it."

A warm smile spread across Lucy's face.  "OK.  I trust you, because you kept my secret.  I know you wouldn't lie to me."  She walked over to Simon and gave him a gentle hug.

It was the worst Simon had felt all day.

Here was his sister – the only person treating him like a human being right now – embracing him, and he was lying to her face.  Not only that, but were he to confess, he knew she wouldn't approve of the reason he had done it.  It was a selfish and self-destructive reason.

But the dark feelings and thoughts had been so overwhelming lately, and he just wanted to make them stop, even if it were only temporary.

He just wanted to make them stop, and he had a plan to do just that.

He had a plan, and having gotten that phone number, the first part of it was already complete.


	4. The Idea and the Wager

***

The weeks of grounding passed so slowly for Simon, they felt like months.  Fortunately, a couple interesting things happened to spice things up along the way.

For one thing, a senior named Maria unexpectedly spent an evening with him.  They didn't go out on an official date since he was still grounded, but they did make out a lot and crash a Valentine's party they had taken Ruthie to.  Still, Simon had the feeling all along that it was only going to be a one-night thing, since Maria kept mentioning her ex and how jealous he would be if he knew she was out with another guy.  And Simon had been right; as fast as Maria had come into his life, she just as quickly faded back into the crowd, not even talking to him – or acknowledging his existence, for that matter – afterward.  But that was OK with him.  Other than her personality, he hadn't been very attracted to her.

That's not to say he wasn't attracted to the _benefits_ of dating her.  After all, dating a senior the week after getting drunk at a senior party certainly never hurts a sophomore's reputation.  After word got around high school about his Valentine's weekend activities – and word did get out, of course – he started getting a few of the glances of respect and admiration he had been craving from passers-by in the hallways for so long.  Finally people were starting to look at him as something other than "the preacher's son."  Even Morris once again began smiling or nodding at Simon when he saw him.  The two of them had not spoken to each other yet, but Simon figured it was only a matter of time.

In addition to the night with Maria, another crazy thing happened while Simon was grounded.  One day, Matt stayed out all night, and when he came home again he was engaged to some girl nobody had ever met before.  Not only that, but she was a _Jewish_ girl.  Simon thanked God regularly that, because his parents became so distracted by this turn of events, they seemed to completely forget he was grounded anymore.

***

Things were falling back into place.  Shortly after Simon's grounding sentence ended, the event he had been expecting finally happened.  Morris approached him in the school hallway one day after classes were over.

All the bad feelings Simon had from their last exchange were gone now.  His heart had softened again, and he was so excited when Morris apologized for acting like a dick.

"Don't worry about it, man.  I'm over it," said Simon, wearing his most winning smile and beaming with pride as he demonstrated his boundless Christian ability to forgive.

They walked out of school together and started catching up on the past few weeks.  Apparently Morris's girlfriend, Megan, had stopped talking to him, and his other friends had been treating him like shit ever since he had escorted Simon away from the party.  Simon felt so badly for Morris, but also for himself.  Was he still considered that big of a geek, that just by being associated with him Morris was considered one too?

He didn't have time to get caught up in self-pity though.  Instead, he became excited when Morris invited himself to the family get-to-know-each-other dinner at Matt's fiancée's house.  This was great; not only was Morris willing to spend time with Simon again, but he also claimed to be "half-Jewish".  Simon saw this as a definite opportunity to endear himself again to Matt, who still hadn't seemed to forgive him for that drunken party ordeal.  After all, if Simon could bring Morris – a perfect example of the potential product of a loving Jewish interfaith marriage – to the dinner and help dissolve some family tension, then he would be somewhat of a hero.  Hero status had been badly absent from his life lately, and maybe getting some of it back would provide some much-needed feeling of fulfillment for him.

Unfortunately that fulfillment escaped him, as things didn't go as planned at the dinner.  During the meal Morris proved not to be very in touch with his Jewish "half", and he made a lot of embarrassing comments.  It became Simon's turn to scold Morris for humiliating him, and for doing nothing to help endear him to his family.  But Morris made a good, if slightly huffy, point, saying he didn't realize he was supposed to be some kind of exhibit.  That made Simon feel a little guilty.  He wished he could express that it wasn't entirely true that he was only using Morris for that purpose; he enjoyed his company too.

Eventually, Matt announced that he was considering converting to Judaism, and Eric flipped out.  Simon and Morris took that opportunity to bolt early from the dinner with Lucy, who seemed to be distracted by another one of her man-trouble issues.  This time it apparently involved Robbie.

Simon thought it was lame that she and Mary still didn't seem to be over Robbie, but he could understand the attraction.  Robbie was funny and handsome, albeit not the smartest or most ambitious person in the world.  Simon pretty much liked him, when he wasn't rubbing in the fact that he was screwing an international pop sensation.

***

After Morris parked his jeep in the Camdens' driveway, Lucy obsessively ran into the house without so much as a thank-you for the ride.  Simon apologized to Morris for her behavior.

"Sorry my sister is so wacked-out tonight.  In fact, sorry my whole family is so wacked-out tonight.  And sorry I got mad at you back at the dinner."

"OK, OK, enough apologizing, Simon.  You're going to kill me with niceness if you don't stop already."

Morris said it with a smile, so Simon knew things were smooth between them.  He decided it was finally the right time to share the plan with him.

"Hey, Morris, if you're still up for doing something tonight, I've got an idea."

Morris's eyebrows perked up with interest.  "What's your idea, man?"

Simon looked around as if he were checking to make sure no one was listening.  Then he leaned in closer to Morris and continued, with his voice slightly lowered in volume.

"I got a phone number from one of Lucy's college friends, so, like, do you, maybe, want to go on a double date?"

No response from Morris.

"I mean, think about it, man.  College girls!"  Simon grinned devilishly and nudged Morris, as if this were the best part, "And Lucy told me they like to party.  She said they all snuck into a bar and drank beer once."

Simon wondered why Morris didn't look more enthusiastic after this big announcement.

"Simon, are you telling me that Lucy just gave you these girls' phone numbers with her blessing?  I mean, that sounds kind of weird, considering she's studying to be a minister."

Simon looked at him as if he were an idiot.  "Come on, dude, I'm talking about dating college party girls.  Don't you know what that would do for our reputations?  Think about it, does it really _matter_ how I got the digits?"

"Simon, it _does_ matter how you got the digits.  I mean, do these girls even know you exist?  Has Lucy even told them about you?  Do they know you're planning to ask them out?  I'm sorry, man, but I just can't see college girls saying yes to a guy who doesn't even have his driver's license yet.  No offense."

That touched a nerve.  "Oh yeah?  Well in case you hadn't noticed lately, I have a way with the older women," Simon boasted.

"Oh, right," said Morris sarcastically.  "One night with a senior girl who's trying to make her ex-boyfriend jealous, and all of a sudden you 'have a way with the older women'."

Simon responded, "Look, if you don't want to claim your half of this date then that's OK with me.  I guess I'll just have to handle both of these crazy, horny college girls myself.  And believe me, I could do it."

Alright, now Simon was just being ridiculous.

"Fine.  If you can somehow manage to actually convince two college girls to go out with us, then I'll go on a double date with you.  But I bet you twenty bucks you get shot down."

"You're on, dumbass," Simon accepted the challenge.

"Well, if you've got the number, I've got my cell phone in the jeep," said Morris.

"Wait here."

Simon ran into the house, up the stairs, into his room to look for the notebook with Barb's number.  On his way, he passed Robbie making out with Joy in the living room right in front of the twins.  He also passed Lucy and Mary having a minor catfight over Robbie in the upstairs hallway, completely oblivious to the macking going on downstairs.  Simon didn't bother to intervene, because he couldn't have cared less at the moment.

He grabbed the notebook, ran downstairs and outside, reached the driveway again and said, "Give me the phone, man."

Morris handed him the cell phone, but Simon couldn't figure out how to turn it on and get a dial tone.  Impatiently, Morris said, "Here, give me that," and as he reached to grab the phone, his hand brushed ever so gently over Simon's.  Again, he felt that touch of electricity that Simon sometimes made him feel.  His hands were so soft they were almost feminine.  Morris could imagine them running down his back, caressing him gently…

Perish the thought.  After all, Simon had shown no interest in him whatsoever.  He was too busy chasing after "crazy, horny college girls."

If only Morris realized that Simon was doing this all for him, and their reputations.  He was only trying to impress Morris and prove his coolness to him and the rest of Glenoak High School.

Simon felt a tingle too as Morris's skin brushed across his.  But he was more used to covering those kinds of feelings than Morris.  He had been doing it for years.  Besides, he figured it didn't mean anything.  Morris was a jock who liked girls.  He probably hadn't noticed he had just touched Simon, the way he hadn't noticed how close they were to each other when he had unbuckled Simon's seatbelt in the jeep that night after the party…

Simon was snapped out of his memories and back into the present moment when Morris shoved the cell-phone back into his still-open palm.  He dialed the number he had written down and waited anxiously for an answer.

"Hello?"

"Hello, may I please speak to Barb?"

"This is she."

"Hi, Barb, my name is Simon Camden.  My sister Lucy is in one of your classes, I think."

"Oh…my…God.  Lucy Camden?  The girl whose sister wouldn't let her drink a beer?  What a zero."

"Yeah, that's my sister.  Anyway, I was just calling because, well, she said you like to party and, well, so do I."

There was hesitation on the other end of the line.  "Is this a joke?"

"No, no, this is no joke, I was just calling to see if you wanted to maybe…do something?"

Simon heard Barb clear her throat and skeptically ask, "Simon, did you say your name was?  How old are you?"

"I'm, uh, eighteen," he lied nervously.

"Are you still in high school, sweetie?"

Simon tried to use every ounce of boldness within himself.  "Well, yeah, but I'm, uh, graduating soon.  And, uh, I've been out with older women before.  I actually prefer them.  I've been told I'm very mature for my age."

"I'm sure you have, sweetie," she said condescendingly.  Then she sighed, and it sounded like she was about to let him down.  But instead, miraculously, she said, "You know what?  What the hell, why not?  My boyfriend just dumped me and I could use a good time right now.  Where do you want to meet?"

"Um," shocked by her surprising response, Simon's mind went blank.  "We can meet wherever you want to meet.  You pick the place."

"Hmm, how about McSweeney's?  It's this little bar just across from the Crawford campus on Oak Street.  You do have a fake ID, right?  I mean, you said you like to party."

"Oh.  Um, actually, no, I don't," said Simon.  Then he realized how that had sounded and corrected himself, "I mean, I don't have a fake ID.  I _do_ like to party."

"You know what?  They'll probably let you in anyway," said Barb nonchalantly.  "I know the bartender, so I can probably get you in.  Meet me outside.  What do you look like?"

"Um, I'm tall, blond, and, uh, most girls tell me I'm handsome."  Simon's immodesty caused Morris to roll his eyes. "Oh, and I'm wearing a brown suede jacket," he added.

"Woo hoo, you sound like the man of my dreams," said Barb.

Simon was getting genuinely excited, but he hadn't forgotten about Morris.  "Oh, by the way, Lucy mentioned you had a friend, Jill?"

"Oh yeah, Jill.  What about her?"

"Well, I have a friend here that she might like to meet."

"Um, Jill kind of has a boyfriend right now.  Oh, you know what?  Screw it.  He's cheating on her anyway.  Yeah, bring your friend along, and I'll see if I can't convince Jill to come with me.  If not, I'm sure your friend can find some drunken slut to hook up with at the bar."

Wow, these college girls were just as easy as Lucy had made them sound.

"Great," said Simon.  "So I'll see you at McSweeney's in…half an hour?"

"Works for me."

"Cool.  Bye."  
"Goodbye, Simon."

As Simon hung up the cell phone, Morris silently and grudgingly handed him a twenty-dollar bill.


	5. At McSweeney's

***

Morris had an uneasy feeling about Simon's idea.  It had worked too easily.  A fifteen-year-old kid calls up some college girl he doesn't even know for a date; and then he gets it, with few questions asked?  Morris had been around the block enough times to be suspicious.

He knew that if, for example, some mousy freshman girl had called him and his friends – rather, his ex-friends – trolling for a date, cruelty would have ensued.  In the pit of his stomach, Morris felt like this was a similar trap.  Why would these girls want to hang out with two high school kids on a Friday night?

But Simon seemed so jubilant, and Morris couldn't find it in his heart to break that jubilation by announcing his suspicions.  As soon as the two jumped back into his jeep, Simon dug through Morris's CD collection.  He found the Nelly CD – which his parents certainly wouldn't have allowed him to own – threw it into the disc player, and turned it up loud.  The bass echoed off the houses of the neighborhoods they were driving through.

They were two pimps, out for a night on the town – two pimps, about to throw down with some wild college girls.

Simon absolutely loved nights like this.  They were so rare, and beautiful.  Most nights were boring, loaded with hope of something, anything interesting, anything fun – followed by nothing.

Nothing ever happened, nothing that made him feel complete.  Homework, TV, dinner with family, reading, praying for the phone to ring, his parents stalking him on his dates, nothing.  Nothing ever happened.  Nothing was allowed to happen.

But tonight was different, would be different.  Maybe the fact that Matt was planning to marry a Jewish girl was a sign of it.  Maybe things were changing for the Camdens.  Simon could not think of a better night to execute his plan.

The sky was clear, almost as clear as his head.

The night air felt cool, almost as cool as he felt.

***

Morris found a place to park a couple blocks from the bar.  Friday night looked like it was hopping in this college area of town.  Young people were everywhere he could see, walking across the campus courtyard, holding hands, walking along the sidewalks toward their favorite watering holes.

As the two pimps strolled toward McSweeney's, Morris could tell Simon was jazzed.  The kid looked like he was a positively charged ion about to bounce off the positively charged sides of the buildings.

Ugh, Morris thought, I've been studying too hard for that upcoming physics test.  I guess that's what happens when your so-called friends turn on you – you spend your newfound free time studying, your grades go up, you turn into a geek…and then you start hanging out with geeks.

"This is so cool," Simon gushed.  "Isn't this cool, man?  I can't wait until I get to college."

"Yeah," said Morris, still trying not to burst Simon's bubble.  "This is, uh, pretty cool."

"Hey look, do you think that might be Barb?"

***

Barb recognized the two high school kids right away.  She wasn't sure exactly why, but they stood out from all the other people on the street that night.  Maybe it was because one of them looked young, _so_ young.

From a distance, she figured Simon must have been the muscular one.  He was blond, attractive, fairly tall, and he was the only one of the two who even remotely looked eighteen, so she figured it must be him.

She approached them and introduced herself, "Hi, I'm Barb.  Let me guess, you must be Simon."

"Actually, I'm Morris.  He's Simon."

Barb turned to the skinny, gawky kid and tried not to laugh.  "Wait a minute, _you're_ Simon?  I thought you said you were eighteen."

"Yeah, that's right," Simon tried to play it cool.

Barb shook her head but decided to let it go.  "Well, it's nice to meet you boys –I mean, gentlemen.  Jill's already inside getting us a round of lemon drops.  The place is packed so she figured she'd better get to the bar ASAP."

"Actually, I'm the DD tonight, so I won't be drinking," said Morris.

"Oh, that's OK.  He can do your shot for you," Barb said, nodding toward Simon.

"Yeah, Mo, I got you covered," Simon boasted.

Mo?  As Barb led the way into the bar, Morris grabbed Simon's jacket and held him back for a second.

"Listen, Camden.  I babysat your drunk ass once already, and I'm not going to do it again tonight.  Are we clear on that?"

"Relax, man, I can handle myself."

"Bullshit.  You're a lightweight.  After this first round of shots, you're done, OK?"

"No way, man.  These girls like to party.  As long as they're drinking, I'm drinking."

"Look, Simon, I don't think you know what you're getting yourself into.  These girls could probably drink you under the table."

"Oh yeah?  We'll see about that."

Shit.  Morris wondered again why he was so attracted to this goofy dipshit.  He could really be a clueless moron sometimes.  But it wasn't entirely his fault.  Morris figured that if he himself had been raised in a preacher's house, he probably would be just as goofy and naïve, if not worse.

***

As Morris stepped into the bar, he could see that it was packed wall-to-wall just like Barb had said.  In fact, McSweeney's had to be violating some kind of building capacity code.  Morris then realized that no bouncer had carded any of them on their way in.  What kind of place was this, and how could it not get shut down?

Jill had somehow managed to save them a table for four in the corner.  Simon had already downed his first vodka shot and was blissfully sucking on the lemon.

Damn!  It burned going down, way worse than the spiked punch.  But it didn't last too long.  He would live.  And the lemon made the nasty aftertaste go away.

"Hi, I'm Jill," Jill shouted across the table to Morris as he sat down.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Morris," he shouted back.

All the introductions had been made, and an awkward silence followed.  Only it wasn't silence, because it was filled with deafening crowd noise.  Hoping to get the conversation going again, and realizing that he, Jill, and Barb each still had a shot in front of them, Simon raised his second glass into the air.

"I'd like to make a toast, to meeting new people."

Jill and Barb raised and clinked their shot glasses, and Morris raised the invisible glass in his hand.

The shot went down.  God, this one burned stronger.

-Suck the lemon.  Suck the lemon.  Make the gag reflex go away.  Suck the lemon.  It's gone.  You're OK.-

"Woo hoo!" Simon shouted, not knowing where it came from.

Morris was laughing.  Jill and Barb were laughing too.  Jill spoke.

"So, Morris, Simon said you guys are seniors at Glenoak?"

"Yeah," Morris answered, not blowing Simon's cover.

"Have you picked out colleges yet?"

"I'm trying to get a football scholarship somewhere."

"You play football?"

"Yeah."

"My boyfriend plays football.  Sorry, I meant my cheating bastard _ex_-boyfriend plays football.  He taught me all about it.  What position do you play?"

Simon was losing interest in their conversation, and so was Barb.  She slinked out of her seat, around the table, to Simon, and whispered in his ear – well, it would have been a whisper if she hadn't had to raise her voice over the crowd noise.

"Let's go get another round."

Simon knew he wasn't ready for another round, but he got up and walked toward the bar with her anyway.  The place was so crowded that they had to carefully navigate their way through the sea of people to get there.  Simon was glad he was so thin.  It was easier for him not to bump into people.

As they walked, he realized that other than a little rumbling in his stomach, he wasn't feeling any ill effects.  His brain felt clear.  His balance was intact.  Maybe by the time they reached the bar, he would be ready for the next shot.

They finally reached the island in the middle that was the bar.  Even though there were several people waiting to place orders, one of the bartenders immediately came over when he saw Barb.  The guy looked like he was in his early to mid-twenties, dark haired, maybe just a little sleazy.

He planted a little kiss on Barb's cheek and asked, "How ya been, babe?"

"I'm okay, Jack.  How 'bout you?"

"Can't complain.  Business is good, as you can see," he winked at her.

"Definitely."

"So who is this?" Jack looked over to Simon.

"This is my company for the night, Simon."

"Company?"  Jack laughed, and Simon couldn't tell why.  He turned to Simon and said, "Watch out for this one, kid.  She's a wild one."

Simon nodded, not knowing what else to do or say.  What the hell was going on here?

"What can I get you two?" Jack asked.

"Do you want another lemon drop, or do you want something else?" Barb asked Simon.

"Lemon drop is fine.  Let me pay for this round," Simon said.

Was he slurring his words?  He couldn't tell.  It didn't matter.  The crowd noise was too loud for it to be noticeable, even to him.

"Simon, I've got an idea," Barb said, with a naughty look in her eye.  "Do you want to make this one a body shot?"

"What's a body shot?"

"It's when I sprinkle the sugar on my neck and put the lemon slice in my mouth.  Then you do the shot, lick the sugar off my neck, and take the lemon out of my mouth without using your hands."

"Cool," said Simon.  "Let's do it."

"Jack, we need two lemon drops."

"Coming right up, babe."  
What was that rumbling in Simon's stomach?  Was it the last two vodka shots, or was it his nerves?

-Be cool.  You can handle another one.-

In just a minute, Jack returned with two full shot glasses.  They looked about twice the size of the other shots Simon had just done.

"I made them doubles, but I'll only charge you for regular shots," said Jack, winking again.  "That's eight dollars."

Simon handed Jack the twenty he had won from Morris, and left Jack a dollar tip from the change.

"Well, here we go," said Barb as she leaned her head back seductively.  She licked her fingers and moistened a spot on her neck, then sprinkled a tiny bit of sugar on.  Next, she picked up a lemon slice and placed it between her teeth.  Simon noticed that several of the other guys in the bar were looking at Barb intently, as if they were fantasizing that they were in Simon's position.

-It's time to take care of business.-

Simon picked up the double shot and tried hard to down it all at once.  It didn't quite work.

God, it burned.  And it tasted awful.  What the hell?

After about five gulps, he had finally finished the double.  Shit.  He needed that lemon, fast.  He quickly licked what he hoped was the right spot on her neck, although he didn't seem to taste any sugar.  Then he moved up to her mouth and bit down on the lemon.

While his lips were there, Barb moved hers closer to his.

-Dammit, I need the fucking lemon right now.  I could give a shit about lip-locking with you.  I'm going to vomit into your mouth if I don't get a hit off this fucking citrus now!-

Somehow he survived.

While Barb mashed her lips onto his, he mashed his teeth down on the lemon.  The motion must have simulated a kiss, because Barb seemed pleased.

She looked at him happily and said, "My turn."

As Simon spat out his chewed lemon wedge, Barb licked her fingers again and swabbed them across his neck.  Then she sprinkled on a dash of sugar, and put a fresh lemon wedge in Simon's mouth, with the skin-side facing him.  Barb downed her shot in two gulps at the most.  She hovered around Simon's neck, licking every last crystal of sugar clean off it.  Then she moved her mouth up to his and seductively retrieved the lemon, using a lot more tongue than Simon had expected.

And that was his last clear memory of the evening.


	6. Daybreak (Things Could Be Worse)

***

Waking up sucks.  Why is it still so dark?  Ow.  Why does my head hurt so much?  Why is this awful taste in my mouth?  Why is my mouth so dry?

Wait.  Where am I?  This is not my room.  Why am I on the floor?  Whose floor is this?

Hold on.  Why is the room spinning?  I'm not moving.  Why is the room moving?

Oh my God.  I'm going to throw up.  Who put this trash can next to me?  Who cares?  I'd better use it now.

***

Oh, thank God.  I feel so much better now.  Not great, but better.

Man, I wonder whose trash can I just threw up in.  Because this is definitely not my room.  How did I end up here?

What the hell happened?

***

Bits and pieces.

Lemon kiss.  With tongue.

Live band playing in the next room.  Do I want to dance?  Sure.

Walking.  Stumbling.  Tripping.  Falling.  Nope.  I can't dance.

Barb, I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to spill that on you.

Time to call it a night?  Fuck off, Morris.  I'm just getting started.

We're leaving?  Already?  But we just got here.  What do you mean we've been here for two and a half hours?  That's impossible.

Shut up.  No, _we're_ not leaving.  _You're_ leaving.  Asshole.

Last call?  Hell yeah, Barb, I want a beer.  Hell no, Jill, I don't need a glass of water.

Barb, where are you going?  I thought we were getting along so well.

Jill, where's Barb going?  Why is she with that guy?

Jill?  Jill!  Where are you going?  Please!  Don't leave me here by myself!

***

Holy shit.  If I told Morris to leave, and if Barb and Jill deserted me…then where the hell am I now?

Oh my God.  I'm in someone's bedroom.  There's someone in the bed.  Asleep.  Breathing.  Snoring.  Who is it?

I'm too scared to look.

What should I do?  Should I pray?

Oh God, I'm so sorry I did this.  Please, please, let me be safe in some normal person's bedroom.  Please don't let me be in, like, Hannibal Lecter's house or something.

Wait.  Simon.  Be reasonable.  Your head was on a pillow.  Would a psycho have bothered to put a pillow under your head and a trash can next to you?  No.  You're safe.

You have to be safe.

You have to get _home_!

Where's a clock?  There's one!  5:08 A.M.  Maybe I can get home before anyone wakes up.  There's still time!

But how am I going to get home when I don't even know where I am?

Call a cab!  No.  That wouldn't work.  I would need to be able to tell the cab where to pick me up.

Take a bus!  There's still some money left over from last night.  Isn't there?

Oh God.  No money.  My wallet is empty.  This is insane.  How could I possibly have spent that much last night?

Think, Simon, think.

All I can think is, who is asleep in that bed?

But I'm too scared to look.

But I have to look.

I'm creeping over to the bed, ever so quietly…

Creeping…

Creeping…

Looking…

Looking…

***

"Wake up.  Wake up!"

"What…what?  Oh, you're alive.  Good morning, Simon."

"The hell it is.  What the hell am I doing here?"

"What are you doing here?  Well, the way I see it, you didn't have any other place to go last night.  Whether you knew it or not, I was keeping an eye on you all night at the bar.  I saw you end up alone and I felt kind of bad for you, so I brought you back here and looked after you.  After all, you getting drunk last night was partially my fault."

"What?  No it wasn't.  Getting drunk last night was entirely _my_ fault.  I was acting just plain…out of control.  Wow…I probably would have been really screwed if you hadn't looked out for me.  So, I guess, thanks for giving me a place to crash last night.  And, by the way, I'm sorry.  I threw up in your garbage can."

"Yeah, I know; I had never seen someone puke as much as you did last night."

"No, I meant this morning."

"Damn!"

"Listen, you've already done a lot, but would it be possible for you to do me one more huge, giant favor?"

"What's that, Simon?"

"Could you possibly take me home?  Like, right now?"

"Sure.  Let's go."

***

As a principle, Simon hated mornings:  morning breath, foggy-headedness, the god-awful sound of that alarm, wanting just five, ten, fifteen minutes more of sleep.  But this, by far, had to be the worst morning he had ever had.  Waking up on someone else's bedroom floor, vomiting, with a pounding headache to boot?  Certainly this must be the downside of drinking that he had been cautioned about so often.

Still, things could have turned out so much worse.  He had had a blast last night, as far as he could remember.  He had been kindly taken in and taken care of when the night had ended.  And now, there was still an outside chance that he could get home and sneak in the house without anyone noticing him.

Yup, things could definitely be worse.

***

"Turn left here."

"OK."

"So, um, what do you recommend for a hangover?"

"Ah.  I get asked that a lot.  The best things you can do are just to rest and drink lots of water.  I don't recommend taking aspirin or anything like that, because it does long-term liver damage if you take that stuff after drinking.  Also if you can get any food to stay down, try eating fruit.  Fruit is usually pretty good at absorbing any alcohol that's left in your stomach."

"I don't think there's _anything_ left in my stomach."

"Heh, you're probably right."

"So, what exactly happened after Barb and Jill left me?  Because that's the last thing I remember."

"Hey, I'm not surprised that's the last thing you remember.  After your 'girlfriends' left you, you crawled into an empty booth and passed out.  Spike, the bouncer, was about to call campus police and have them take you away, but I stopped him."

"Wow.  Thanks.  I can't imagine how badly my parents would have freaked out if they had had to pick me up from jail."

"Exactly, and then if the police and your parents found out where you got drunk, the bar would have gotten shut down and lost its license.  Spike's not exactly the brightest bulb."

"Turn right here, and my house is three blocks down on the right.  Actually, why don't you just stop here and I'll walk the rest of the way?  That way no one will hear a car engine or a car door, you know?  Hopefully I can sneak into the house and not wake anyone up."

"Good luck with that.  Hey, Simon, before you go, why don't you take one of my business cards."

"What for?"

"Well, I like you, and I remember when I was your age how hard it used to be to get alcohol.  So, I'm just saying, if you ever want me to, you know, hook you up with anything, just give me a call, OK?  Later…."

Without waiting to see Simon's reaction, Jack sped down the street, toward the rising sun, in his convertible.


	7. Dreams and Distractions

***

Simon stood by the side of the road, dumbfounded, looking at the card in his hand.  Jack's name was printed above the words "Head Bartender, McSweeney's", and his phone number.  There was a trippy tie-dye color design in the background that looked cool, almost hypnotic.

He could not allow himself to get hypnotized by the design, though, because he had to get home immediately.  He pocketed the card and quickly walked the remaining blocks to his house, hoping none of the neighbors would see him and report to his parents that he had come home at 5:30 in the morning.

Before long, he reached his kitchen door.  Quietly he pulled his keys from his pocket, found the right key, and unlocked the door, hoping that Happy would not start barking if she heard him.

Silence.

He cautiously closed the door behind him, re-locked it, sneaked through the kitchen to the back staircase, and climbed it.

Silence.

He sneaked across the hallway into his room, gently closed the door, took off his shoes and jacket, and hopped into bed.

Silence.

This was surreal.

Simon had been more than half-expecting Mom, Dad, Matt, Ruthie, or any combination of them to be waiting for him in the kitchen or the living room.  On any other night they would have been.  In fact, on any other night he wouldn't have made it to the bar in the first place.  He wouldn't even have made it two blocks in Morris's jeep without someone following him, watching him, stalking him, making sure he did the right thing – the Camden thing.

But things had been different lately.  Simon wondered exactly when things had started changing to the way they had become; was it Matt's engagement, Mom's banishment of her children to the garage treehouse, Mary's exile to Buffalo, Dad's heart problems?

Things had been so much better when he was just a kid; he really wanted to figure out precisely when things had started changing for the worse.  His head ached too much to fully revisit his many painful memories, though, and he fell asleep again.  He fell asleep – feeling extremely lucky that his secret seemed so safe – in the comfort of his own bed.

***

He was in his house, only the rooms didn't look the same.  It was home, but not.

Almost everyone was there – Mom, Dad, Matt, Ruthie, Lucy, Robbie, and Mary.  The twins and Happy were absent.  Everyone looked a few years younger, save for him.

They were in the kitchen.  Eating at the table.  Nothing seemed wrong, except there was a spot on the floor, a strange circle Simon had never noticed before.  It was orange and big, about a foot in diameter, maybe more.

While everyone else ate, Simon stared at it.  He couldn't help but stare at it.  Nobody else at the table seemed to perceive it.

Then, without speaking, Matt stood up from the table.  No one seemed to notice Matt's movement, except for Simon.  Matt walked to the spot, stood directly on top of it, then turned to face Simon.  Simon could not tell if Matt even knew the spot was there.

Then Matt was gone.  Vanished.

Then Ruthie stood up.  She walked to the spot.  She faced Simon.  Vanished.

One by one, they all walked to the spot, Mom, Dad, Mary, and Robbie, all turning to face him.  Vanished.

-Lucy.  No, please, not you.  Don't desert me too, Lucy!-

Vanished.  One by one, until Simon was alone.

***

He woke with a start and checked his surroundings to make sure it had been just a dream.  Of course it had been, but nonetheless, what a relief.

His head still hurt, but the ache was dull and distant now, not nearly as splitting as it had felt earlier.  There was an awful smell in his nose.  After thinking for a minute, Simon figured out the odor was probably a mixture of various forms of alcohol, dried kugel, and digestive juices.  Disgusting.

Simon felt dirty and slimy over every inch of his body.  Never had he wanted a shower more.  He looked at the clock by his bedside…11:05 A.M.  His family usually didn't let him sleep this late, even on Saturdays.  Had they vanished?  No, he heard voices outside his door, distant.  Was everyone downstairs?  If so, the shower should be available.

As he stood in the shower washing away the stench of last night, Simon noticed that his balance was imperfect.  More than once, he had to steady himself to keep from toppling.  Simon worried that he still wasn't completely sober, and that something might happen to expose him in front of his family.

He remembered what Jack had said about drinking water and eating fruit.  After dressing, he went downstairs to the kitchen and got a glass of water, an apple, and a banana.  Then he checked the floor to verify that no strange orange spots had appeared.

Simon noticed that Mom sat at the table, quietly sipping coffee while Sam and David played with blocks on the floor.  It seemed a bit later than usual for Mom to be drinking coffee.  She looked a little rough, with the bags under her eyes standing out more than they normally did.

"Good morning, Mom," he said, sitting down next to her.

His words appeared to snap her out of deep thought.  Jerking her head to face him she said, "Good morning, Simon, I didn't even hear you come downstairs."

Weird.  Simon had expected to get yelled at, or interrogated about where he had been last night.  Instead she had not even noticed him when he had been right in front of her.  Simon checked the floor, again confirming that no orange spots had suddenly appeared.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Not much right now.  Your father's working on tomorrow's sermon, Lucy and Mary are upstairs working on homework together, and Robbie and Ruthie went to the grocery store to pick up some things for me.  I don't really know where Matt is…" she trailed off, and the faraway look returned to her face.

Nothing.  No 'Simon where were you last night.'  No 'What time did you get home.'  _Nothing_.

"Mom, are you OK?"

She was snapped back to reality from her thoughts again, "Oh, me?  Yes, I'm fine, just fine.  I'm worried about your father, though.  I'm very worried.  He's having such a difficult time with Matt's engagement."

Simon exhaled loudly through his nostrils and angrily bit the tip off the banana.

Of course it was Matt, Matt and his big fat announcement.  That's why everyone was so off-balance right now.  Any time Matt had ever done anything as small as taking a crap it had always been big Camden news, so of course his engagement had everyone acting as if the end of the world were near.

Simon wondered why no one seemed to care what _he_ did any more.  It seemed like lately any time he ever did anything – whether it was deserving of praise or scorn – it might get acknowledged, but it would certainly be overshadowed by whatever Matt was doing.  Hell, after Matt had made his engagement announcement, Simon's family had even seemed to forget he had gotten drunk at the senior party – and that might have been the worst thing Simon had ever done until last night.  Nobody seemed to have noticed he had been missing last night either…not yet, anyway.  Indeed Simon thought it strange, what with his historically nosy family, that neither his siblings nor his parents seemed to care what he was doing anymore – unless, of course, it directly affected them or the Camden family image.

With Matt's upcoming graduation and his full scholarship to graduate school, he had, in his parents' opinions, been the only Camden child properly maintaining that image lately – up until the engagement announcement.  But then again, it had always been that way, hadn't it?  Matt could do no wrong.

For a long time, Simon had accepted the fact that Matt was his parents' favorite child – maybe accepted was not the right word, but he had at least gotten used to it.  He had also gotten used to their double standard when it came to Matt.  He knew that he, Lucy, and Mary had received less praise their whole lives for doing the same things as Matt.  Getting confirmed, making the honor roll – for Matt announcements were mailed, phone calls were made, gifts were received, and parties were thrown.  Mere pats on the back, handshakes, hugs, kisses, and ice cream were given to the others.

Conversely, his parents had always punished the others more sternly than Matt for doing bad things.  Granted, Matt never really _did_ anything bad, but there's no way they would have sent him to live with the Colonel for a year the way they had done with Mary.

It bothered Simon, but he had never blamed Matt for it.  Matt had always been good to him – always, that is, up until that one moment when everything in the house had changed.

Aha!  Simon had stumbled upon that point he had been trying to think of earlier, the time when things had started noticeably changing in the house.  It was the time when everyone had started going a bit nutty, when his parents got their first taste of empty nest syndrome, and when his siblings and he began to feel a shift in the power structure of the Camden household.

It had been when Matt first decided to move out.  Simon recalled how excited he had been, both for his big brother and himself.  Matt was finally going to start the exciting life of a single bachelor residing away from home, and Simon was going to become "the man of the house".

Only it hadn't worked out that way.  Mom, Dad, Mary, Lucy, and Ruthie had sneered at or ignored Simon's attempts to be "the man".  And Matt had laughed at him.  He had just plain laughed.

Simon felt rage smoldering inside him, even now, recalling how much Matt had hurt him then.  Over the following years, he had tried so hard to forgive the brother he had loved for so long before then.  But since that moment, he had never been able to feel quite the same about Matt.  The pain and humiliation had been too strong for Simon ever to forget.

How could his own brother have had such a low opinion about his ability to act like a man, especially considering that he and his father had been the only two examples of "men" Simon had ever really looked up to?  Worse, how could Matt have laughed in Simon's face so callously, knowing that Simon was right in the middle of an already awkward adolescence?

Come to think of it, what made Matt so much better than him anyway?  The loser had been through a nearly boundless procession of girlfriends, stalking each one with an obsessiveness bordering on psychosis.  Then he had come back to live at home, letting his parents treat him like a ten-year-old again and actually seeming to enjoy it.  That was the sickest part.  At age twenty-two, Matt actually seemed to _like_ sleeping on Hello Kitty sheets and having a curfew to obey.

Of course, it was possible that Matt had just been acting the way his parents wanted him to while he was under their roof, secretly subduing his true desires all along.  Maybe he had finally snapped under all the pressure from the silly rules, the self-restraint, and the lack of sex, and that's why he had run out and gotten engaged to someone he barely knew.

Maybe, but who actually knew why Matt was doing anything?  He hadn't really bothered to explain himself to anyone, especially Simon – in fact, he never seemed to have time for Simon anymore, always studying, working at the hospital, kissing his parents' asses, stalking girlfriends, proposing to women he didn't know.

If living under one's parents' roof and not "getting any" made an adult resort to that kind of behavior, Simon vowed he would never go the same route as Matt.  The first sexual opportunity that presented itself, Simon would not turn away – to hell with getting married or engaged first.  And he would sure as hell leave home the minute he knew he could sustain himself on his own.

***

Simon finished his water and fruit while sorting through all these thoughts, but he still felt sluggish.  He needed coffee.  He poured himself a mug from the pot his mother had made, sat back down at the table with her, and resumed thinking about Matt.  

Oh well.  At least while the family was obsessed with Matt's engagement, then Simon could begin to live under the Camden roof – yet outside the Camden rules – without facing harsh consequences.  Indeed it was a convenient time for Matt to have introduced this distraction….

Both Annie and Simon were distracted now.  As they sat at the table sipping coffee, absorbed deeply by their thoughts, Happy strolled through the kitchen.  Having just eaten her mid-day meal, she sloppily smacked her lips and a stray piece of dog food dropped from them to the floor.  Sam picked it up and ate it while David clapped and laughed.


	8. Numb

***

Not once during the day did anyone ask Simon where he had been last night.  The only one who even seemed to realize he had been gone was Ruthie.  Whenever he passed her in the kitchen or the upstairs hall, he sensed that a question was burning in her eyes.  But she always looked away instead of asking it.

-She must have a secret of her own.  And it must be too valuable for her to risk exposing it by pushing me.-

When the night arrived, however, Ruthie knew she wouldn't be able to sleep without rubbing it in to Simon that she knew his secret.  As he lay on his bed, she entered his room without knocking.

"I know where you went last night."

Simon, startled, dropped the book he had been reading for English class.  But then he regained his composure.  Maybe she was bluffing.  Two could play that game.

"Of course you do, I went to the Glasses' house for dinner.  You were there."

"No, I'm talking about afterward.  I know where you went after you and Morris left the dinner."

"Yeah, we went home."

"Nope.  You went somewhere else, somewhere you shouldn't have been."

Simon glared at her.  She had to be bluffing.

Or maybe not; after all, this was Ruthie.  Following in her parents' footsteps, she had become an ace snooper; the student had become the master.  Maybe she really did know, or else she had a pretty good idea.  It was probably better to play a spin game now than to keep bluffing.

"So what?  So you know.  Big freaking deal.  Mom and Dad don't even know I was _gone_, let alone where I went.  Do you really want to upset them even more, after the way Dad went off the deep end at dinner last night?  It wouldn't be safe, not even for you.  They would probably punish you for not telling them sooner."

Ruthie furrowed her eyebrows and crossed her arms.  "Don't drag _me_ into this.  I haven't done anything wrong."

"Oh no?  I've seen the way you've been avoiding eye contact with me all day.  You have something to hide, and it's not just where I was last night."

Yes!  Ruthie squirmed.  It gave Simon secret satisfaction to see it, since it happened so rarely.  But as Simon had done a minute ago, Ruthie quickly regained her composure.  She took the tie-dyed card out of her pocket, the one she had found in Simon's pants pocket earlier in the day, and smugly tossed it onto his bed.

She knew.

"Simon, it's okay that you have secrets.  So do I.  The difference is, you'll _never_ know my secrets, and I'll _always_ know yours."

With that chilling statement, Ruthie turned and left Simon's room.

Resigned, he dropped his head back onto his pillow.  He was getting so used to everyone – especially Ruthie – spying on him and harassing him that it was hard for him to even feel angry about it anymore.  The frustration at his family and their ways was just becoming a background noise, a numbness.

Simon closed his eyes, wishing he were anywhere else in the world.  As he lay there, a scary thought occurred to him:

-Oh, dear God.  Ruthie's becoming the next Matt!-

The similarities were all too apparent to Simon – the nosiness, the self-righteousness – except Ruthie almost took it to a new extreme.  Could it be that, when Matt finally left the house for good to go to New York…Ruthie would become the man of the house?

-No way in hell can I stay here long enough to see that happen.-

***

Sunday morning came and went, and Simon didn't hear a word of his father's sermon.  Having to sit next to Ruthie in the pew, his mind wandered back to the good old days.  What had happened to them since then?

They used to get along so well; they had shared a room for a while and he hadn't even minded.  They had had their own secrets and inside jokes that no one ever found out about.  They had played together, and she had constantly asked him questions about everything.  Plus she used to look to him for help on her homework, and for his advice.  He had loved to share his knowledge, to give his help to her, and to be a good role model and big brother.  Now, it was as if they were both different people.

Had aliens stolen her brain and replaced it with one of their own?  After all, nowadays she acted as if she had already learned everything there was to know.  She never bothered listening to anyone else's advice because she was too busy dispensing her own.  She was overly confident of herself, as if she were beyond reproach.  And worse, now she condescended to Simon, preaching to him as if she knew better than him, in that tone of voice similar to the one Dad or Matt would use.

Simon wasn't even sure anymore that she _didn't_ know more than him.  Lately, in fact, hardly anything had seemed to make sense to him anymore.  Despite his parents' years of preaching and teaching, he was less sure about what was right and what was wrong than he had ever been before – especially when it came to the drinking.  How could it be wrong when it made him feel so right – even if only for the few hours of buzz that it generated?

And so Simon now felt confusion, disillusionment, a longing for the past, and a sense of sorrow for the sanctimonious sneak whom Ruthie had become.  He also felt guilt, deep down, for having all these feelings in church.  After all, his father had always told him that church was a place where he should be letting love, the Word of God, and appreciation for all His many blessings into his heart.  So many emotions conflicted within Simon, and he could feel them all turning into numbness.

***

By the time Monday morning arrived, Ruthie still had not told anyone about Simon's secret.  However, Simon knew better than to view it as a good sign.  She was probably saving it up for blackmail material later, or for collateral in case he ever managed to get any dirt on her.  In any case, he was safe for the moment.  Simply confronting her about whatever secret she was hiding had apparently bought Simon some time.

***

When he arrived at school, Simon sought out Morris to tell him about his new bartender friend.  Also, he figured that maybe while he was telling Morris, he could make sure that a few key people were within earshot.  After all, how popular would Simon be if word got out that he had a source for alcohol?

Simon found Morris at his locker.  However as soon as Morris saw him approaching, he slammed his locker shut and stomped, scowling and wordless, into his homeroom.

Oops.  Morris's bad attitude refreshed Simon's memory about how rude he had been to Morris at the bar on Friday night.  Apparently damage control was going to be a challenge.

***

All day, Simon eagerly anticipated the final school bell; time could not pass nearly quickly enough.  Each class was an agonizing period of waiting, waiting for the next opportunity to catch Morris in the halls.  But Morris had avoided him at every turn.

Simon had begun to worry more each time Morris intentionally steered clear of him.  Maybe he had been such an asshole to Morris on Friday that he was back to zero-friend status now.  Maybe it was his destiny never to have friends.  Maybe he was just a born loser.

Lunch didn't help him feel any less like a loser.  As usual, he was forced to sit by himself when all the "clique tables" were either full or had seats "reserved".  Of course, most of those "reserved" seats never filled up.  Simon was used to it by now.  No one wanted to be seen sitting with the preacher's son.

To make matters worse, the guidance counselor, Mr. Shaffer, had called him into his office after lunch.  Mr. Shaffer was a pale, ugly, graying, balding, skinny, small skeleton, and most Glenoak High students considered him a pathetic human being.  To Simon, the fact that this bozo was the man hired to guide him toward success after high school was a rather frightening prospect.

"Simon, a number of your teachers have notified me that…well, there's no easy way to say this.  Your grades are slipping, and your performance in class has been disappointing.  I have been told by more than one of your teachers that you seem 'spaced out', 'unable to focus', and 'in [your] own little world'."  Mr. Shaffer looked as if he were reading a list of offenses from a piece of paper on his desk, and also as if he were trying unsuccessfully to hide the fact that he was enjoying it.

Simon hadn't been expecting this meeting, so he didn't know what to say for himself.  He just sat and stared blankly at Mr. Shaffer.

"Simon, finals are coming up sooner than you might think.  Now you have always been a solid A or B student, but the way your grades are headed you might finish this year with some C's, maybe even a D or two.  I know you don't want that, do you?"

Simon was still dumbfounded and speechless.  Why was this happening to him?  It wasn't like he had stopped trying.  Things had just been so much more difficult lately.  It really was harder for him to focus on anything other than his constant misery.  And this little meeting was only adding to that misery.

"Simon, you know I'm a good friend of your father's, and he asked me to notify him any time you seemed to be having problems in school," said Mr. Shaffer.  Simon wasn't so sure about that.  Any time someone brought up being a "good friend" of the Reverend's, it usually meant that they would stop by the church once every month or two to sit through a sermon and drop an offering on the plate.  Simon knew that was how it worked for most of the families who attended their church.

It was sometimes sickening how false people's piety could be.  Did they attend just to maintain a virtuous church-going image for their fake friends?  Whatever.  At least they weren't _forced_ to go _every_ weekend and listen to a bunch of "lessons" that had started to sound like his father's same old tired, extremely strict, narrow, and outdated interpretations of passages from the Bible…

"…Simon?  Simon, are you listening to me?  Good heavens, I can see what your teachers mean about you 'spacing out'.  I asked you, do we need to bring your parents in here for a meeting, or are you going to shape up and bring your grades up to your normal standards by the end of the year?"

Simon chewed his lip and thought for a minute, then carelessly responded, "I don't know.  We'll see."

He stood up to leave but as he did, Mr. Shaffer slammed a fist on his desk and said in a sinister tone, "Listen to me, Simon Camden.  I've had three other Camden children pass through this school with flying colors and you will not be the first Camden to change my reputation, do you hear me?  I put food on your table.  Remember that!"

Simon just muttered, "Whatever," and walked out of the office.  Seriously, who did this guy think he was?  He couldn't be putting _that_ much money in the collection plate if he was only a lowly school guidance counselor.  And after all, Mary didn't exactly "pass through with flying colors" the way he claimed.  Had he forgotten the whole gymnasium-trashing incident?

-Man, why is everybody on my ass?  Even the loser guidance counselor is on me now.  What is wrong with me?

I suck.

My whole life sucks.-

***

The much-anticipated final school bell rang, at long last.  Simon normally would have joyously welcomed its ringing, but all feelings of joy and pain had become subdued.  The numbness had set upon him again at some point during the day.  Oh well.  At least the many minutes of his long walk home had a chance to be fortuitously free of human contact.

As he left, however, he happened upon a bit of good luck when he spotted Morris in front of the school.  Simon thought there could be no better way to break out of his strangely overwhelming numbness than to reconcile with Morris.  He was the only human being Simon really cared to have contact with right now.

"Morris, wait up.  I need to talk to you."  Simon sprinted to catch Morris, who didn't bother to slow down as he walked toward home.

"Go away, Camden.  I don't want to have anything to do with you.  You're just a sophomore punk who thinks he's big shit when he gets a little alcohol in his system."

"OK, I deserved that, but…"

"Hell yeah, you deserved it because it's true."  Morris finally looked at Simon, and it wasn't a friendly look.

Simon started his speech again, "Maybe so, but I just want to apologize.  I am really, truly sorry for the way I acted and for the things I said to you Friday night."

Morris stopped walking and blew up.  "No you're not, Camden.  You liked it and you know it.  You were just having a grand old time there, getting drunk, saying whatever dumb-assed shit popped into your head.  You couldn't have cared less how badly you were insulting Jill, Barb, and me, not to mention annoying everybody else within a ten foot radius of you."

Simon felt the numbness fading away, but this hadn't been the way he had wanted to get rid of it.  He could feel his eyes beginning to burn.  Everyone had been such a dick to him lately; he so badly needed Morris not to be.  Why couldn't Morris just get over this and forgive him?

"Come on, man, what could I have possibly done or said when I was drunk that was so bad…"

"You called me a _fag_."

-What?  Did he just say I…did I really call him a…?-

Morris silently glared at Simon for an extremely uncomfortable and long moment, and Simon stared back in shock.  It was as if Morris were waiting for Simon to say something, but Simon couldn't find any words in his dry mouth.  Morris eventually gave up, turned, and walked away.

When Simon finally regained his sense, he yelled, "Morris, wait up!  I'm sorry!  Please, come back, let's talk!"

But Morris was gone, and it was too late.


	9. Everything Is Wrong

***

Simon didn't know what to think.  If his apology hadn't been enough, then what had Morris wanted him to say or do?  Was he mad simply because Simon had called him…that horrible name, and he didn't like it?  Or was Morris mad because he really was…

No.  It couldn't be possible, could it?  Morris had always been popular, always dated lots of girls.  He was one of the school's top athletes, and was probably not a virgin either.  He couldn't be…could he?  No.

So what reason did he have for getting so mad?  It just didn't make sense.

The worst thing was, try as he might, Simon could not remember calling him that.  He must have been really drunk, because he never would have used that word otherwise.  How could he, when it would have hurt him just as badly to speak it as to be called it?

In a murky haze of confusion, guilt, loneliness, anger, and self-loathing, Simon walked home alone.  By the time he arrived there, he had convinced himself that things could not possibly get any worse.  He was wrong.

***

When he reached his bedroom, he saw Lucy blocking his entrance.  She looked as if she had been waiting there for a while.  Her arms were folded across her chest, and her face looked as if it had been a mixture of anger and sorrow for some time now.

She spoke softly, but Simon could still hear the pain in her trembling voice.  "Well, Barb told me an interesting little story in philosophy class today."

"Oh my God," Simon muttered, dropping his eyes to the floor.

"Simon, _how could you_?  Not only did you invade my privacy to get her phone number, but you lied to me about it, and then you did something even worse."

Simon kept his gaze on the floor.  He could not believe this was happening now, after all the awful things that had already happened today.

"I swear, Simon, it's like I don't even know you any more," Lucy said with fresh tears in her eyes.  "And I'm not sure I want to."  That was the twist of the dagger.  She quietly sobbed as she slipped past him on her way up to her room.

Across the hall, Ruthie walked out of the bathroom and said, "What a shame."  For just a moment, Simon almost thought he saw sympathy in her eyes.  Then she ruined the moment by continuing, "Life just isn't fair sometimes.  I mean, _I_ wanted to be the one to tell her.  But what are you gonna do?" she asked with a shrug.

Numb again, Simon sank into his room and quietly closed the door.  He leaned back against the door, slowly dropped to the floor, hung his head, and covered his eyes with his hands.

***

Nothing is right.

All the time.  Lumps in my throat.  Knots in my chest.  Acid in my stomach.  Cactus in my eyes.

My eyes, dry like the desert.  Why can't I cry anymore?  I wish I could take all this pain and eject it from my body through my tear ducts and force myself to feel better.

But I can't.

Nothing is right.

I remember the pocketknife, the one the Colonel gave me for my twelfth birthday.  I never used it; it should still be sharp.  It's in the back of my desk drawer.  I could use it now; it would be fast and easy.  I could cut my heart open and let all the pain bleed out of me.

God, what am I thinking?  Things aren't that bad.  Are they?  I have a roof over my head.  I have three meals a day.

So why do I feel so bad?  Why is it impossible for me to be thankful anymore?

Because I have nothing to be thankful for.  I don't care about the roof, or the food.

Do I?  Would I rather be starving and homeless than to be living the way I am now?  Would I rather be dead?

Yes.

Simon, you're crazy.  What are you thinking this for?  You need help.  You need to talk to someone.

But whom?  The people who used to care about me think I'm a disgrace, a disappointment, a liar, selfish and stupid.  And they're right.  I let everyone down over, and over, and over again.  So if I talked to them and admitted how wrong everything is with me, would they hear me, and would they care?

I doubt it.

I never felt this way when I was a kid.  I felt loved.  I felt wanted.

Now nobody loves me.  Nobody wants me.

Not even me.

I want to die.

No, no, _no _Simon_ stop_!  Stop thinking these things.

You know what to do.  You _know_ what to do.

It's the only thing you can do if you want to live here.  Do it now and ask their forgiveness later.  It's the only way you can live.

You know what to do.

Take out the card and give him a call.

***

"Jack?"

"Yes?"

"This is Simon Camden."

"Simon!  Good to hear from you!"  Those words were an enormous comfort.  "Wow, it's been almost three whole days.  You've been on the wagon for a long time, man."

"You're joking, right?"

"Yeah, I'm just messing with you.  So what's going on?"

"I don't know.  Nothing good," Simon said morosely.

"Oh, I see, nothing good's going on so you want to make something good happen?"

"Yeah, something like that, I guess."

"I think we can arrange that.  Why don't you come on down to McSweeney's tonight?  We're open right now, but the drinks get cheaper during happy hour.  It starts at five o'clock."

"Um, sounds good."  Simon paused, weighing whether or not he should ask the stupid question on his mind.  Somehow the question blurted itself out:  "Listen, Jack, you're not, like, some undercover cop who's trying to bust me for underage drinking are you?  Because the way my day is going, it wouldn't surprise me a bit."

Jack laughed heartily.  "No, Simon.  If I were a cop, I wouldn't have been able to serve you Friday night, now would I?  Listen, the Crawford campus police are the ones who patrol our district, and believe me, we pay them handsomely to look the other way about certain things.  It works out profitably for both of us.  In any case, you won't get caught.  You have nothing to worry about."

Simon got a queasy feeling in his stomach.  Buying alcohol from a guy who openly admitted paying police to look the other way regarding underage drinking?  As sketchy as his beliefs about wrong and right had become, this still felt wrong.

Then again, what wasn't wrong anymore?

"OK, then.  I'll see you around five."

***

Simon desperately pulled together as much money as he could find.  Even though it had been closed for several years, the Bank of Simon still knew how to pool its resources.  Friday night had dealt a major blow to his finances, but not a crushing one.  In spite of everything, he had more than enough money left for round trip bus fare, and also for enough shots to get him smashed.

Running out of the house unnoticed by anyone, Simon headed for the bus stop.  When he got there, though, he decided it was too risky to loiter.  Someone could see him there and report him to his family.

He kept running a couple blocks north and then a couple west, into a neighborhood he wasn't so familiar with.  Finding a bus stop, he waited until a city bus finally arrived.  He boarded, dropped his fare into the slot, and looked around for a seat.  The bus was empty.

***

As he sat alone, Simon couldn't help but think back to that ride to Crawford in Morris's jeep Friday night, with the blasting stereo speakers setting the mood, the cool wind in their faces, and Morris's golden locks fluttering alluringly in the breeze.  That exhilarating ride had seemed to last mere minutes.

This one was taking an eternity.  Simon pulled a route map brochure from a bracket on the wall and, upon examining it, he learned that he needed to transfer in a few stops.  Great.  That meant more waiting for the next bus, but at least that one would only have to make five stops before dropping him off at Crawford.

After transferring and riding the second bus to his destination, Simon got out and observed his surroundings.  Crawford seemed like such a cool place.  There were young adults everywhere, and they looked so trendy and smart and interesting.

-Why wouldn't Lucy and Mary want to live here?  Hell, if I were going to Crawford I would get a damn job just so I could pay for my own place here.  I'm so sick of home.-

***

Simon did his best not to look self-conscious about his age as he entered McSweeney's.  He headed straight for the bar and sat down at an empty stool.  Jack saw him and walked right over to him.  He immediately leaned in and began speaking in a low voice so that no one else could hear him.

"Simon, listen, my buddy at the police station called and said a plainclothes officer is going to be patrolling the neighborhood around eight o'clock.  Just to be on the safe side, we need to get you out of here before then."

"What?  But I thought you said I wouldn't get in trouble…"

"Don't worry, you won't.  Old Jack will take care of you.  Now what'll you have?"

"Um, I don't know.  What could get me really drunk, really fast?"

Jack sized him up and said, "You?  Well, you're thin, you're young, and you showed us Friday that you have an exceptionally low tolerance.  Frankly, just about anything could get you drunk fast.  But I'll tell you what I'll do.  I'm gonna help you out here.  I'll teach you how to drink at your own pace and enjoy it.  No getting sick, no hangovers, none of that stuff.  We'll still get you wasted.  We're just going to do it more carefully."

"Cool.  Let's do it."

***

_Crack a smile and cut your mouth  
And drown in alcohol…_

_So kill your health and kill yourself  
And kill everything you love_+

They were lyrics to a song Simon had never heard before, a song that played in the bar as he drank.  Simon thought they were some of the most beautiful lyrics he had ever heard.  They contained none of that uplifting, glory to God, love thy neighbor crap that he just couldn't feel any connection to anymore.  Rather, the lyrics let him know that at least one person somewhere in the world had once felt the same pain as him; and they told him how to make the pain stop…

_Kill your health and kill yourself…_

_And drown in alcohol_

***

+_Lyrics borrowed from "Burden in My Hand" by Soundgarden_


	10. Through the Shadows

***

Two hours, six shots, and two beers later, Simon was feeling excellent.  The feeling wasn't quite perfect, but it was a definite improvement over the rest of the day.

Jack had been teaching Simon how to feel the exact moment when he was ready for the next shot.  "Wait for the nausea to go away completely.  Take a sip of water and see how it makes your stomach feel.  If your stomach doesn't churn, go ahead.

"If it's a whiskey shot, chase it with domestic brew.  If it's tequila, chase it with Corona."  Simon could tell Jack was a pro.  He hoped that someday he could see Jack in action, and maybe learn a few more pointers.

***

"Well, kid, I think you're good and toasted now.  It's probably time for you to get out of here."

"OkayIllgetouttaherenow.  ForeIgowheresthebathroom?"

"It's in back, on the left."

"ThanksJackyourethegreatest."

As Simon stood up from the barstool, he could barely walk straight.  He staggered through the crowd, fortunate not to crash into anyone, and made his way to the men's room.

-Oh God.  Why is the room spinning again?  This isn't supposed to happen.  Jack taught me how not to make this happen.  Oh no.  Here comes the vomit…-

***

Simon was too embarrassed to admit to Jack that he had just lost his precious alcohol down the pipes.  So after washing his face and popping a breath mint in his mouth, he put on a phony grin and waved goodbye to Jack as he left the bar.

His head swam.  Where should he go now?  He didn't really want to go home, especially as drunk as he was.

Maybe it was time to give Morris another try.

Simon found a campus pay phone and dropped the requisite coins into the slot with considerable difficulty.  Realizing what a drunkenly complicated time he had had with the simple task of inserting the coins, he made sure to slowly and carefully dial Morris's cell phone number, which he had memorized over the weekend.

"Hello?"

"HelloMorris."

"Simon?"

"Yeahitsme."

"Why are you calling me?  I thought I made it clear that I don't want to have anything to do with you."

"ListenIknowyoudidntwannatalkearlierbutwegottatalkmanwejustgotta."

"Whoa, Simon, slow down.  I can hardly understand you.  Are you okay?"

"Imjustgreatbutwegottatalk."

Morris, suspicious that Simon had gone and gotten himself drunk again – on a _Monday_, no less – sighed and softened a bit.  "Well, okay, I guess we can talk."

"NotnowImeanwegottatalkfacetofacejustyouandmeMorris."

"Um, wow.  Geez, I don't know, Simon."  Morris was skeptical.  After what Simon had called him Friday, did he really want to hear anything else drunk Simon had to say?

"It'sreallyreally_really_important."

Morris sighed again and said, "I'm not sure why I'm saying this, but okay.  We can talk face to face.  Where and when do you want to meet?"

"Iwannameetyounow, andIwannameetatyourhouse."

"My house?  Really?  Um, OK, I guess.  Do you even know where I live?"

"Noclue."

"I live at 741 Evergreen Lane.  It's just off Broad Street, near the Central Glenoak Shopping Plaza."

"Okeydokeybetheresoon."

After hanging up, Simon looked at the route map he had pocketed from the first bus.  He tried to find Broad Street, but all the streets and names and routes seemed to be blurring together.  Simon realized that a bus was pulling up to the Crawford stop right now.  He dashed drunkenly toward it and boarded, hoping that it was the right one.

***

Somewhere along the way he must have fallen asleep.  He woke up when he felt the plopping of a butt into the seat next to his.  The man who had just sat down smiled at him as he opened his eyes.

Simon smiled back, and then he instinctively checked to make sure his wallet was still in his pocket.  Whew!  It was still there.

As he looked around the bus, Simon felt an awkward sensation.  It wasn't really fear, more like…shock.  He felt shock as he realized he was the only white person on the bus.

The sensation passed quickly though, as Simon was definitely not a racist.  When he was younger he had been best friends with an African-American boy, until the boy had moved across town.  Now Simon didn't hear from him much anymore.

-Typical.  Give a person a chance to get away from me and he's all over it.  That's why I can't let Morris get away from me this time.-

Morris!  Simon recalled that visiting him had been his initial reason for boarding the bus.  Where had Morris told him to go?  Broad Street?  Where the hell was that?  Simon didn't even know where he was now, let alone how to get to Broad Street.

The man next to him had seemed friendly, so Simon asked him, "Excuse me, sir.  Does this bus go to Broad Street?"

"Broad Street?" the man chuckled.  "Son, you're on the wrong side of town if you're looking for Broad Street."

"Where am I?"

"You're in East Glenoak."

East Glenoak.  Simon tried not to cringe at those words.  Around Glenoak High School they were synonymous with "ghetto".

"Well, do you know how I can get to Broad Street from here?"  
The man thought for a minute and said, "Well, let me think about that for a minute, hmm.  Oh, yes.  Okay, you can get off at the next stop, which is 4th Street, and wait for the 33 bus.  That goes back toward Central Glenoak where you're looking to go."

"Thanks a lot, sir."  Simon pressed the button to notify the bus driver to stop.

"There's only one thing, son," the man said.  "I don't know if you really want to get out at this stop.  It's a pretty tough neighborhood."

"Don't worry," said Simon as he passed the man on his way to the door.  "I can take care of myself."

***

Simon waited nervously for the 33 to arrive at the stop.  He hadn't worn a watch so he had no idea what time it was.  All he knew was that when he had boarded the first bus it had been approaching dusk, but now it had become completely dark.

He tried to sit down on the bench to wait, but the area smelled too strongly of urine to stay there for long.  Instead he stood up and paced around the area.  He tried not to imagine that he saw something moving toward him in the shadows of the graffiti-covered abandoned buildings.  Then he realized he wasn't imagining it.  A man dressed in ragged, dirty clothing and pushing a shopping cart with a full plastic bag and lots of wadded up newspaper in it was approaching him.

-Oh no.  What should I do?  Be cool, Simon.-

Simon decided to cross the street to avoid the stranger, when the man shouted, "Hey!"

Simon tried hard not to look back, but the man's cry startled him so much that he stopped walking and turned his head around.

"Do you have any spare change?" the man hollered.

Simon knew the honest answer to that.  "Sorry, I spent it all on booze."

The man looked angry.  "Are you making fun of me?"

"What?  No."

The man started to wander away from his cart toward Simon.

-Oh God.  I have to get out of here.-

Panicking, Simon ran away from the man.  In the distance, Simon could hear him screaming, "Come back here!  Where do you think you're going?"

***

Simon had no idea where he was going anymore.  All he knew was that he was completely lost in East Glenoak.

He could remember all the stupid, cruel jokes his insensitive classmates had made about East Glenoak.  Anytime a student's parent had lost a job, the joke was, "They can't even afford a house in East Glenoak now."  Or there was always the popular, "Your mama's an East Glenoak crack whore."

But thinking about it now, Simon realized that in his nearly sixteen years living in Glenoak, he had never been to this side of town.  Not even once.  Simon found it a bit strange that as a Christian, he was supposed to do as many charitable things as possible to help those less fortunate than him – his father was constantly preaching that – yet his father had never once brought the family to this side of town to do any of that charitable work.  Everything they had ever done had been for their cozy little suburban parish, nestled between middle-class Central Glenoak and well-to-do West Glenoak.

Of course, they had sent money to starving families in Third World countries and so forth, but that was easy.  No actual physical involvement was required to do that.  Why had he never even seen this part of town?  Was his father just too afraid to bring his family here?  Did his mother forbid the Reverend to bring the family here?

Maybe so.  It was pretty frightening walking through the shadows on the poorly lit and dirty streets, wondering if anyone was standing in alleyways or behind buildings waiting to jump out at him.

Simon remembered some of the things he had told himself earlier in the day, during those intensely dark, numb moments in his room.  Would he really rather be homeless and starving here in East Glenoak, constantly wandering around worrying about his personal safety, trying not to go insane for lack of food in his stomach, than to live at home?  Would he rather be here fending for himself without help from his parents and siblings, however questionable he might find that help?

No.  This was scary.  As painful as his heart had felt earlier, he knew that his feelings could not match those of someone parentless, friendless, without food, shelter, money, new clothing, or a place to wash, out on these streets.

Simon turned around and tried to retrace his steps to the bus stop.  As he walked, he did something he had not done in a long time.  He thanked God for all his blessings.

***

When Simon reached the bus stop again, the homeless man was nowhere to be found and the 33 bus was just pulling up.  Perfect timing!

Simon found a seat and looked at his route map again.  If he was at 4th Street now, he had a ways to go until Broad Street.  However, the nice man on the other bus had been correct.  The 33 route would take him directly there.

As he sat, he thought about all that had transpired during this wild day.  He thought about his experience at the bar.  Oddly, it felt like it had happened yesterday.  And all those awful things that had happened at school and at home felt like they had happened last week.

He thought about how, apart from throwing up at the bar, Jack had been right about everything.  He felt no headache or nausea now, just a very pleasant buzz.  Simon wished he could find a way to capture this buzz and live with it the rest of his life.  He had no idea how or why it made him feel so good, why it suppressed all those other horrible feelings.  But it did.

And of course, he thought about what he would say to Morris when he ultimately arrived at his house.

-What to say, what to say, and how to say it…-

***

Simon finally arrived at the Broad Street/Central Glenoak Shopping Plaza stop.  He stepped off the bus and recalled that he was supposed to find Evergreen Lane.  Crap.  What the hell was Morris's street address again?  He should have written it down.

No problem, though.  There was a pay phone at the shopping plaza with a phone book attached beneath it.  Simon looked up Morris's family name and found the only ones with that name who lived on Evergreen Lane.  Aha!  741.

As an elderly couple came out of a nearby drugstore, Simon asked them, "Excuse me, sir, ma'am, do you know which way is Evergreen Lane?"

"It's a block up the road that way," the man pointed in the right direction.

"Thank you, sir!"

Simon ran the whole way.  He was excited.  For some reason, he thought this meeting with Morris would be special, like the clouds were finally about to lift from his life.

As his heart pounded and his adrenaline rushed Simon realized that the alcohol buzz was definitely wearing off, yet he wasn't feeling numb anymore.  He was actually feeling pretty good, despite a little bit of anxiety.

-741.  There it is, Morris's house.  Nice house.  There's his jeep in the driveway.  Oh boy.  I'm walking up Morris's front steps, hee!  I'm ringing the doorbell.  Here goes nothing…-


	11. Tonight's the Night

***

"Simon, you made it.  What took you so long?  I was expecting you about an hour and a half ago."

"Dude, you don't even want to know.  It's a _long_ story."

Morris was impressed.  On the phone Simon had sounded absolutely drunk, but now he looked completely sober.  Maybe he wouldn't have to shuttle the kid directly upstairs after all.  In fact, why not introduce him to Mom and Dad?

"Simon, these are my parents.  Mom, Dad, this is Simon."

The parents had been sitting in the living room to the left of the front door, and they stood up to greet Simon amiably in the hallway.  "Nice to meet you, Simon.  Morris has told us about you," Morris's mother said.

"He has?" Simon said, surprised and a bit worried.  "What has he told you?"

"Oh, he says you're a reverend's son, and you have six brothers and sisters, and you're a good friend of his."

"I'm a good friend?  He said that?" Simon beamed from ear to ear.

Embarrassed, Morris decided that maybe this had been a dumb idea.  "OK, nice talking to you, Mom," he said, hoping to cease the conversation as rapidly as possible.  He put a hand on Simon's shoulder to direct him toward the stairs.

"Nice meeting you, Simon," Morris's father called cheerfully after them as they climbed the stairs.  Simon waved in a friendly manner to Morris's parents as they disappeared from his view.

When they reached his bedroom, Simon noticed that Morris's hand was still on his shoulder.  All signs had been good so far.  Simon just had a feeling that tonight was the night.

They entered the room and Morris closed the door.  They sat down facing each other on his bed, Morris at the head and Simon at the foot.

"So, Simon, what were you so desperate to talk to me about?"

Simon recalled all the things that had gone through his head on the bus.  He had so many things he wanted to say to Morris, but where should he begin?

"First of all, I want _you_ to know that _I_ know that no amount of apologizing can make up for the awful things I said Friday night, and for the way I treated you.  I don't know what came over me, but I don't ever want to get that out-of-control again."

Morris nodded and said, "Look, Simon, I just want you to know that if you were drinking to impress me or something like that, it didn't work.  And you don't need to do it anyway.  I like you the way you are; you don't have to drink and try to be someone else."

Simon grinned, blushed, and averted his eyes at the compliment.

God, he's so cute when he smiles that little gap-toothed smile, thought Morris.  I even like those goofy double-earrings he wears.  What is it about Simon?

"So anyway, what happened to you at the bar after I left?  Because even though I was really mad at you, I was also worried sick that something bad was going to happen to you.  In fact, I almost called your parents again but I remembered how much trouble you got in last time."

The parents.  Simon's expression darkened a bit.  "Everything worked out OK.  The bartender actually took care of me and gave me a ride home.  The only thing is, my sisters, Ruthie and Lucy, found out what I did.  I don't know if they've told my parents or not, but I'm afraid to go home and find out."

"Yikes," said Morris.

Simon thought cautiously about whether he wanted to continue, whether or not he wanted to tell Morris about the darkness and the numbness and everything else.

-What are you waiting for?  Tonight is the night.  Look how receptive he is right now.  Look how friendly he's being.

But what if you tell him what's inside you and it all goes away?  What if he thinks you're a freak?  What if you scare him away?

You have to take that chance.  Look at him.  He's waiting for you to tell him.  It's written on his face.  He's expecting more.  He's open.-

"Morris, there's some other stuff I wanted to talk about and, it's okay if you don't want to talk about it, you know, because it's kind of personal stuff and maybe you don't want to hear it, but, like, I just really don't know who else I could talk to about it…"

"Simon, what is it?" said Morris, with a look of friendly concern on his face.

Simon looked directly into his eyes and painfully admitted, "I don't know, it's just…everything is wrong.  My whole life, everything...".  Unexpectedly, Simon heard his voice choke.  He felt his previously barren eyes fill, and his vision of Morris became blurred with tears.  Suddenly he felt Morris's hand on his shoulder again, comforting him.

"What's wrong, man?"

Simon did the best he could to speak through his sorrow.  "Everything, Morris…I hate my life, I hate waking up every morning…I hate it all."

Simon felt Morris's arms wrap around him and embrace him.  He buried his face into Morris's left shoulder and let himself cry for the first time in years.

"It's OK, Simon," Morris said gently after a moment.  "I feel that way sometimes too."

Simon pulled away in surprise and looked at Morris through his tears.  "You do?"

"Well, lately, kind of, yeah.  I feel that way sometimes."

"But you're, like, a star athlete and everybody likes you."

"I _thought_ everybody liked me, until I started hanging out with you and found out it was all a bunch of superficial bullshit.  And that kind of made me upset and depressed.  But really, I feel a lot better now, talking to you, because you're so much better than them, Simon Camden.  You're the real deal."

-The real deal?  Me?-

Simon wiped away his tears and looked intensely into Morris's eyes.  Morris returned his gaze.

-Deep breath.  Say it.  Say it!-

"Morris, I want you to know that…" Simon gulped and tried again.  "I want you to know that…I'm extremely attracted to you."

Silence.  Stunned silence.  Simon closed his eyes.

-Please say something, Morris.  Please say anything…-

But before Simon could finish his thought he felt Morris's soft lips pressed against his own.

***

Lips touching, tongues touching.  His arms around me.  His fingers through my hair, mine through his.  His breath on my ear, my neck.  His hands, moving down my back, lifting and removing my shirt.  My hands removing his.  No words.  No talk.  No clothes.  Our bodies, falling into the bed in a naked tangle.

***

Simon lay next to Morris, sweaty, out of breath, and exhausted from their passionate lovemaking session.  Lovemaking, not sex.  That's what it had truly been.  Simon silently thanked God; he had just been so blessed that his first sexual experience was with someone he loved.  He knew not everyone was so lucky.

He turned to face Morris and admitted, "That was my first time."

Morris faced Simon with a playful smirk and said, "That was my first time _with a guy_."

Simon smiled and sheepishly asked, "So, how did it compare?"

Morris laid back and sighed, "No comparison.  You blew the others away."

Relaxed by the answer, Simon laid back too and contemplated.  His first time had been nothing like he had expected.  From the moment he had first awakened to his orientation and realized it wasn't going to change, he had never imagined coming out while still living at home.  He had just figured his first time would happen away at college with some boy who would laugh at him because he was still an in-the-closet virgin.  This had exceeded his expectations so beautifully.

Simon laid his head down on Morris's smooth, muscular chest and commented off-handedly, "I'm so glad I skipped my homework and came over here tonight."

Morris lovingly stroked Simon's hair and said, "Wait a minute, Simon, you still haven't done your homework?  I hate to sound like your mother, but you probably ought to go home now and get it done.  It's getting pretty late."

Simon chuckled at Morris's concern and quipped, "Whatever you say, stud; you're the boss."

Morris smiled and gave Simon a quick kiss before getting up and saying, "Come on, get dressed.  I'll give you a ride home."

***

Morris pulled his jeep into the Camdens' driveway and searched for the right words to say.  'Good night, Simon,' just didn't seem to be enough right now.  Yet a goodnight kiss would be too much, considering that any combination of eight different people could be looking out the windows, spying on them.

Simon, however, did Morris's thinking for him.  He planted a big, passionate goodnight kiss right on Morris's lips, hopped out of the jeep and said, "I'll see you tomorrow."

With a warm smile, Morris replied, "I can't wait."  He put the jeep in reverse and backed out of the Camdens' driveway.

- I don't even care if they saw me kiss him.  This is amazing.  I can't believe it; he feels the same way about me as I feel about him.  I'm the luckiest guy in the world!-

Half-walking, half-dancing, Simon climbed the front steps and entered his house.  Almost immediately, his father stormed into the entranceway from the living room.

"Simon, just where in the hell have you been all day?"

Undaunted, Simon didn't even have to think before he spoke.  "Dad, listen.  I know everyone was probably concerned about me, and I know it was wrong for me to leave without telling anyone where I was.  I'm ready for whatever punishment you want to give me because I deserve it."

Reverend Camden shook his head back and forth.  He squinted at Simon and said, "You think you can just walk in here after being missing all day and just say, 'OK, I was wrong, go ahead and punish me'?  Am I supposed to be impressed by that?  Is that your idea of taking responsibility for your actions?  Simon, all year we have been having this same discussion over and over again.  If you want me to treat you like a man, then you're supposed to start acting like one.  And let me tell you, it hasn't happened yet.  Not even close.  I'm very disappointed in you right now but, I hate to say it, I'm not surprised."

This slam against his character, which normally would have sent Simon spiraling downward, did not even faze him.  "Dad, I know.  Everything you just said is true; I realize that.  But there are some things I need to tell you right now that are more important than any of that."

Simon fished briefly for the right words.  "I need to tell you first that I love you and everyone else in this family very much.  And because I trust that you love all of us and want what's best for us, I understand why you made the rules about letting you and Mom know what we're doing while we're out of the house.  I understand why, but I need _you_ to understand that today was an extraordinary day for me.  And due to circumstances that I didn't really have control over, I accidentally broke those rules.  But even though I broke them, I didn't do it on purpose with the intention of hurting you or anyone else.

"And I need you to know that even though I broke those rules today, I'm much better off right now for having done it.  I know that might be hard for you to understand right now, and I can't fully explain it, but I promise you it's absolutely true."  Simon looked at his father with a look that earnestly implored him to hear what he was saying and to take it to heart.

Then he continued, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go finish my homework before I go to bed."

Reverend Camden stood silently, as if absorbing and digesting all that Simon had just blabbered.  While he stood there processing, Simon walked over to him and gave him a big hug just to put a little icing on the cake.  Then he turned and ran upstairs before his father could snap out of his stupor.

***

After Simon had finished his homework he lay in bed thinking about the crazy irony of the whole day he had just been through.  It had been simultaneously the worst and the best day of his life.  He had spent the last of his money and walked through the most poverty-stricken areas of town, yet he had ended up feeling as though he was the richest resident in the entire city of Glenoak.  He had walked through the darkest shadows of the town, and of his own mind, heart, and soul, and yet he had emerged filled with new light.

Simon got a chill as he realized he almost hadn't lived to see it all.  He had been closer than imaginable to taking out that pocketknife and ending his own life.  What a mistake that would have been.

For the third time that evening, Simon thanked God for blessing him.


	12. Simon, the Man

***

Time seemed to pass very quickly for Simon over the next few weeks.  So many wonderful things happened.  Morris and he started having "private moments" at school whenever they could find them:  a quick kiss alone in the bathroom between classes, secretly holding hands under the table whenever they had lunch period together, and so forth.

Also, Simon visited Morris's house and made love to him as frequently as possible.  One day, Morris decided to come out to his parents and admit that he was bisexual and in love with Simon.  Simon sat by his side and held his hand while he did it, even though he was probably feeling even more queasy and uneasy than Morris was.  However, Morris's parents reacted so tranquilly and understandingly, almost as if they had been expecting it.  They didn't show a trace of disappointment or anger.  His mom even hugged Simon.  Simon knew it would be different if…no, _when_ he came out to his family.

Eventually a few of the friends who had previously deserted Morris started speaking to him once again.  He introduced them to Simon and they all actually became a fairly close circle, at least as close as friends can get when they only have the last few weeks of school to spend together.

Then Morris graduated from high school and threw a bitchin' alcohol-free party at his house afterward.  Of course, it was only the close circle of friends in attendance, so it wasn't nearly as big a party as Tom and Mike's had been.  But Simon liked this party a lot better, because he didn't have to drink to enjoy it.

***

In other events, Simon passed all his exams and only got one C, in physical education, while all the rest of his grades were A's and B's.  He consequently flipped Mr. Shaffer a hearty bird on the last day of school, despite the fact that he had once been suspended for flipping birds back in junior high.  Hey, what was old man Shaffer going to do, suspend him at the start of the next school year?  Possible, but not likely.

***

Mary started work as a flight attendant with JetBlue and turned down a premature marriage proposal from her boyfriend, Ben.  Simon was proud of her.  She finally seemed to be taking control of her own life.

***

Matt and his fiancée graduated from college.  Shortly afterward, they married.  Simon was a little hurt that Matt made Robbie his best man at the wedding, but he understood Matt's reasoning.  Matt didn't feel like Simon had earned the honor of being best "man", because Simon wasn't acting like a "man" yet.  Typical Matt, but as usual, Simon forgave him for it.

Besides, despite the way Matt felt about him, he finally felt like he was well on his way to becoming a man, although he knew the man he was about to become was not the man his family was trying to mold him into.  But it might not be so bad.  After all, if his father could come to accept Matt's marriage to a Jewish woman and his possible conversion to her religion, then maybe he could even come to accept Simon's relationship with Morris.

Thinking along those lines, Simon called a family meeting one night and brought Morris over to make the big announcement.  Everyone was there, except for Matt, but Simon overcame the nervousness and the sweat and the heart palpitations and just blurted it out.  It went about as badly as he had expected it would, with Annie shrieking and crying and Mary and Lucy running upstairs and crying and Robbie running after them to comfort them and his father staring at Morris and him with that icy, steely glare, and Happy barking and Ruthie giggling with glee at the chaos and the twins looking as confused as hell.  But at least it was finally out there.

His siblings and Robbie eventually came around to treating him the same way they always had.  Simon wasn't sure exactly whether that was a good thing or not, since they hadn't exactly been treating him well to begin with, but he figured it was better than them shunning him, disowning him as a brother, or not speaking to him at all.  Simon felt that Lucy put it best when she said, "I feel like I should treat you the same way I did before, because you were always gay before.  Just because I _know_ about it now doesn't mean that you've suddenly turned into a different person or should be treated differently."

It was also a great relief for Simon to finally be able to talk to Lucy again, to discuss the reasons why he had done the awful things he had done, and to assure her that it would be a long, long time before he ever considered drinking again.  Lucy was so understanding and forgiving when she finally took the time to listen to him, and Simon counted himself lucky to have such a wonderful sister.  Hell, maybe it wasn't so bad living in the Camden house after all.

The weirdest thing was, Eric and Annie never again mentioned Simon's homosexuality after the night of the big announcement.  Simon knew they knew it existed, that it was there and was a part of him.  Whether they were living in denial or just silent disapproval, Simon didn't know and didn't care.  All he really cared about was that they were not forbidding him to be with Morris, and for that he silently thanked them and put in a good word to God on their behalf every night.

***

Simon decided to spend his summer doing charity work in East Glenoak.  He was rewarded by being able to do so many things he enjoyed, including reading with children who were behind their grade level in reading skills, helping to paint and renovate buildings like youth centers and free clinics, and working at homeless shelters.

While Annie seemed nervous about the whole idea of Simon working in East Glenoak, Eric convinced her that Simon was capable of making his own decision about where he wanted to work.  In fact, one day Eric stopped Simon in the upstairs hall and told him, with a gleam in his eye, that he had never been prouder of his son.  Simon was surprised that Eric told him this – despite knowing in the back of his head that Simon was gay – and it filled him with warmth to know how proud his father was of him.  Yet Simon knew he wasn't doing the work to make his father proud.  He was doing it for the people of East Glenoak, and for the personal satisfaction it brought him to help them.

***

Also, Simon turned sixteen and his parents let him take his driver's test.  He was overjoyed to pass the test on his very first try, much to the dismay of his family.

***

Morris decided to attend college in New York, and he left in August to try out to become a walk-on for his school's football team.  Simon flew out on one of Mary's buddy passes to support him.  Before Simon left New York to return home, he and Morris decided that they would try to have a long-distance relationship.  They knew it would be difficult, but each of them knew how he felt about the other and did not want to throw away the relationship just because of the distance.

***

Simon was shocked to read in the newspaper one morning that the Glenoak Police Department and the FBI had cooperated to shut down McSweeney's.  Apparently Jack and his buddies had been into a lot worse things than just serving alcohol to minors and bribing policemen.  The article revealed that the bar had also been a front for some gambling, drug, and prostitution rings.

In fact, Simon was also shocked to see Barb and Jill's names listed among the prostitution arrests.  Even though most of that lone night he had spent with them was still a hazy blur, Simon did have a vague recollection of some things that had happened after Morris had left the bar.  Reading the newspaper article brought back a memory of Barb giving him a lap dance in the back room at McSweeney's and taking all the money out of his wallet while she did it.  Damn, _that's_ how he had spent all that money at the bar.  Simon just knew he couldn't have _possibly_ spent that much on alcohol.

The most jarring thing mentioned in the article was that detectives and agents had been unable to locate or capture the suspected ringleader of the operations, Harvey Bateman, a.k.a. "Jack Burrows".  It gave Simon a chill to think what kind of trouble he might have gotten into had he continued to visit McSweeney's and become a buddy, or possibly even a protégé, of Jack's.

***

Surprisingly – and Simon suspected that Lucy probably had a hand in it – Ruthie never did tell the parents about Simon's trips to McSweeney's.  Also Simon never found out what secret Ruthie had been hiding from the family.

She continued to spy on Simon, and to invade his privacy on a regular basis.  But it was okay; Simon didn't really care anymore.  After all, there were no more skeletons or dark corners in his closet.

He had nothing to hide.

THE END


End file.
